What I Wish I Could've Said
by Lesera128
Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a moment where they wish they could go back & could've said something better than what they actually did. Here are some rewrites of famous BB minutes in a completely random series of short drabbles.
1. That Time Brennan Inhaled

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

A/N: In 1880, Mark Twain wrote, "I notice that you use plain, simple language, short words and brief sentences. That is the way to write English - it is the modern way and the best way. Stick to it; don't let fluff and flowers and verbosity creep in. When you catch an adjective, kill it. No, I don't mean utterly, but kill most of them - then the rest will be valuable. They weaken when they are close together. They give strength when they are wide apart. An adjective habit, or a wordy, diffuse, flowery habit, once fastened upon a person, is as hard to get rid of as any other vice." Thus, my challenge is as follows: using no more than two to three short lines from a classic _Bones _episode, in about 500 words (give or take), rewrite something that we all wish had been said in a new and interesting way. Happy, sad, romantic, sexy, angry, snarky, funny, honest – it really doesn't matter, as long as it's no more than about the length of a short vigenette, i.e., approximately 500 words. I have a few other scenes in mind, but I'm doing this as a bit of an experiment writing-skills wise. So, if anyone has any suggestions, or wants to see what my warped and twisted mind can come up with, feel free to pull a line or two from you're favorite _Bones_ scene – it doesn't matter what season - hit the review button, and inspire me so that I can see what I might be able to come up with… But, for now, without further adieu, a completely random beginning.

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><p>Ch 1: That Time Brennan Inhaled<p>

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><p>"Are you two high?" Booth asked, looking at Brennan with a mixture of concern and amusement clearly evident on his handsome face.<p>

Her voice softly muted, Angela responded first. "Only by accident, so it doesn't count."

Brennan narrowed her eyes at the blonde interloper standing next to Booth. Tilting her head at her partner, Brennan asked, "Why'd you bring Tessa? This doesn't seem like such a great date."

Opening his mouth to speak, Booth was cut off when Tessa answered for him. "We were out to dinner when he got your call. Your pupils are the size of saucers."

"Yes, I'm aware of that, thank you very much," Brennan snapped. Turning her head back to Booth, Brennan said, "I had no idea you felt comfortable enough in your masculinity to let a female answer for you, Booth."

Booth shrugged, "It's not a big deal, Bones."

"Yes, yes, it is," Brennan whirled around and pointed at Tessa. "Considering the fact that I've been told I'm one of the most arrogant and presumptuously condescending individuals that most people have ever encountered, I admit it's more than a bit ironic when I say this, but you should have more respect for a man like Booth than to presume to speak for him."

"Excuse me?" Tessa said, clearly taken aback.

With a curt nod, Brennan told her, "You heard me."

Turning to face Booth, Tessa said, "You're little partner there did not just say something _like_ that to _me_, now, did she, Seeley?"

"I'm taller than you are," Brennan said, clearly affronted at Tessa's snide remark. Her arms still on her hips in a classic defensive pose, Brennan took a step towards the blonde lawyer that Booth immediately recognized for what it was – posturing.

Taking a step in Brennan's direction, Booth edged his shoulder between the pair of women, Tessa having responded in kind to Brennan's nonverbal threat. "Okay, now. Knock it off. We've got a dead body here, Bones—"

"It can wait," Brennan snapped, sliding past Booth's bulky form.

Shaking her head lightly, Tessa laughed at Brennan. "You know what, _little _girl? You don't scare me. I cut my teeth on two-bit scumbag embezzlers, crooked accountants, and sleazy greaseball CEOs. Do you really think some hippy granola chick like you can really intimidate me?"

"Why don't you get your inferiorly modified rhinoplastied-septum over here, and we'll murder two aves with a single solid aggregate mineral. I'll even do you a favor so that when I break it again, you'll have an excuse to get a good plastic surgeon this time while I'll offer ample evidence why you really should be scared of me," Brennan retorted.

Turning her head away in disgust, Tessa looked at Booth and said, "Seeley?"

"Oh, for Chrissake's, Tessa," Booth said, waving his hand through his hair. "What do you want me to do?"

"Shut her up!" Tessa exclaimed in aggravation.

"No one shuts me up," Brennan muttered defiantly.

Taking a determined step in Tessa's direction, she only stopped when Booth grabbed Brennan's shoulder and leveled his intense gaze at hers.

"_Enough_."

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><p>-TBC-<p> 


	2. That Time Booth Got a Lapdance

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

A/N: Ehhh, so this one's about twice as long as it should be. Oh, well. But, I just couldn't help myself. And, keep those suggestions coming! Some of them have already been incorporated into the pipeline. I'm not saying which yet, but you'll all see soon enough. :)~

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><p>Ch 2: That Time Booth Got a Lapdance<p>

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><p>Despite the fact that Brennan had accompanied Booth to a strip club, she was surprised that it wasn't a louder, more garish atmosphere than she had originally anticipated. It also amused her, <em>slightly<em>, that Strawberry Lust turned out to be a _blonde _stripper. When they had completed their interrogation of Strawberry Lust, Brennan nodded in agreement with Booth's plan to leave the club to question another person of interest, despite the fact that their conversation with the stripper had put Brennan in an odd frame of mind. Her odd mood went to pure evil when she saw Booth refuse to get up from the chair in which he still sat with Strawberry Lust still on his lap.

The strained look on Booth's face entertained Brennan, although she did her utmost to hid her delight as she nodded at the door and spoke. "Then, tell Miss Lust to get up."

The stripper laughed, a shallow almost brittle laugh as she ground her hips into Booth's lap and nodded at him with a grin, "I think that might be a little embarrassing right now, huh, baby?"

Clearly embarassed, Booth looked at the stripper and said in a choked voice, "That's my gun." Brennan frowned at his words, knowing Booth's shoulder holster held his gun at a length that in no way could be mistaken for being anywhere in the vicinity of his pelvis. Almost as if he was mocking Brennan's thoughts, Booth then turned, a pleading look in his eyes as he desperately asked, "Give us a minute?"

Deciding not to make it easy on Booth, Brennan sat back down in her chair, getting comfortable. "Why?"

"Why what?" Booth asked.

"Why do you need a minute?" Brennan asked. "You already told Miss Lust it was your gun, allegedly, which she apparently misperceived as a physical response to her excellently-controlled hip movements. So, if that's true, Booth, why do you need a minute?"

"Outside," Booth grumbled. "_Please_, Bones. Outside, _now_."

Tilting her head, Brennan replied, as if to purposely infuriate Booth by chosing when to be too literally dense, "What's outside?"

"Can you go outside, please?" Booth asked her, clarifying what he really wanted, and in so doing, once again his voice betraying the desperation behind his question.

Swallowing back a cackle, Brennan turned to the stripper and tilted her head as she inquired, "Why... did we get our 60 dollar's worth yet?"

"Well, that all depends, sweetie," Strawberry Lust said as she inclined her head to look at Brennan, mirroring the anthropologist's earlier movement. "I know _he's_ gotten his sixty dollars worth yet, but have _you_?"

"Have I what?" Brennan asked.

"Have you enjoyed watching?" the stripper asked plainly.

Brennan considered the question before she replied, "I'm uncertain how to respond to that question, Miss Lust. While I have found your conversation to be beneficial to our investigation, from a personal standpoint, I can say I've only been mildly amused by watching you make Booth squirm. So, I suppose to be honest, I must say I have slightly enjoyed your efforts, but not as much as I might've."

"For another forty dollars, I can take you two back to a more private room if you want to see him squirm some more, sweetie," Strawberry Lust offered with a knowing look. "Would that make things more enjoyable for you?"

Without even thinking about it, Brennan immediately reached into her purse, promptly withdrew three crisp twenty-dollar bills, and offered them to Strawberry Lust. "Yes, I think so. Provided it's a very _private _room," Brennan emphasized, handing the dancer more money than for which she had asked.

"All righty!" the stripper laughed as she took the money with a nod of understanding as she met Brennan's gaze for a few brief, but crucial seconds. She then popped up off Booth's lap, grabbed his hand, and pulled him up behind her. "Right this way, baby," she laughed.

"Whoa!" Booth said. "Okay, ladies, ha ha. The funnies are on the dumb male. I get it. But, really, I think that this thing has gone far enough—"

Brennan, quickly bringing up the rear, gave Booth a good shove forward. "Be quiet, Booth. Stop being rude and follow Miss Lust, please. We want to make certain we're getting our money's worth, after all."

His eyes wide in surprise, Booth was about to say something, although Brennan would never know what it was, as Strawberry Lust perfectly timed her intervention to cease Booth's protestations. Pulling on his arm even harder, almost yanking him forward into the darkest corners of the club, the stripper guided him towards a private room, and Brennan reemphasized the fact that Booth had little choice but to follow as she firmly pressed on the small of his back with an open palm. Soon, Strawberry Lust suddenly stopped their journey of odd twists and turns as she stood in front of a door, opened it, pulled Booth inside, and gently pushed him down into a large leather chair that sat in the middle of the room. Finally releasing his hand, Strawberry Lust saw Brennan enter just after them and nodded her approval with a smile.

"He's all yours, sweetie."

Quickly darting around Brennan, the stripper disappeared out the door through which they had entered, closing it with a sharp thud behind her. Brennan went to the door, locked it from the inside, and then spun on her heels to face Booth, who sat watching her with hungry eyes. Taking a step towards him, Brennan smiled the evil smile she had been hiding since they walked into the strip club as she said, "Now, how about we see if you were telling the truth to Miss Lust earlier, Booth, or if you were actually lying, as I suspect?"

"About what?" Booth rasped, his voice rough and about an octave deeper than normal.

"Hmmm," Brennan began, eyeing Booth appreciatively. "I think it was something about your gun?" Brennan reminded him, taking another step towards Booth and licking her lips in anticipation. "Because, if you were lying, and I think you were, then we definitely will have gotten our sixty dollars worth by the time we're finished here."

"And, how's that, Bones?" Booth somehow managed to utter, the disbelief and want clear in his voice.

"Because," Brennan said, coming to sit on his lap in a position remarkablely mimicking that of Strawberry Lust's earlier movements. "By the time we're done here, once and for all, I intend for you to comprehend the fact that the only woman who ever is going to feel your _gun_ again is me."

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><p>-TBC-<p> 


	3. That Time Booth Got Asked That ?

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

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><p>Ch 3: That Time Booth Got Asked That Question<p>

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><p>Booth, still a bit uncomfortable about unexpectedly running into Brennan's father on occasion, wanted to downplay the effect Max had on him. If there was one thing that Booth knew, it was that Max Keenan was very, <em>very <em>good at reading people, and he didn't want the ex-con to know he had a slight – as in very small, almost to the point of insignificance – advantage in his dealings with Booth. Nodding at him in greeting, Booth was somewhat surprised at the subsequent words that came out of Max's mouth.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Tuning around to face him, Booth nodded jovially. "Sure."

Only hesitating for the merest fraction of a second, Max came straight out to the point and bluntly asked, "You- are you, uh... are you sleeping with my daughter?"

Whatever question Booth had been anticipating that Max might ask him, it hadn't been that one. Nope, that question hadn't even come close to what Booth had expected. A bit startled, and definitely discomfited, a bit too quickly, Booth sharply answered, "No!"

At Booth's vehement denial, a look of confusion settled over Max's face. "But, why? Are you gay?"

Chuckling a bit, this time genuinely amused as he quickly regained his composure, Booth shook his head. "No."

"Then, what's wrong with Tempe?" Max inquired. "Is she not your type?"

"No," Booth said truthfully. "No, that's not it at all. She's very much my type. She's gorgeous, Max. Smart, confident, funny, warm, tender, sexy as hell—"

"Then, did you try to pull the trigger, and Tempe shot you down for some reason or something?" Max asked. "Kid, help an old guy like me out here. What am I missing? If you aren't gay, Tempe's your type of girl, you think she's pretty, then seriously... what gives?"

"Nothing," Booth said. "It's just, me and Bones. We're—we're just not like _that_."

"I still don't get it," Max insisted. "Why not?"

"Because," Booth said, brow furrowing in frustration. "It's just... that's just the way it is, okay?"

"So, you've never wanted to make a move on her?" Max asked.

"I didn't say that," Booth said, a bit uncertain how much he should be telling to Max Keenan, of all people, who also happened to be Brennan's father.

"Then, you have made a move, and-?"

"I didn't say that either," Booth vascilated. "Come on, Max. Why you so curious? Seriously, Bones would freak out if she knew you were trying to play the overprotective-dad card now, of all times, with _me_."

"Booth, cut it out," Max grumbled. "This is not a difficult situation. If you're attracted to my daughter, why aren't you 'like that'?"

"I told you," Booth repeated. "That's just not- we're just not like that."

"But, you want to be," Max insisted, crossing his arms in certainty of his statement's claim. "Don't bother denying it. I can see it every time you look at her. Obviously, you're attracted to her."

"I'm not dead, Max," Booth laughed. "Any guy in a ten-mile radius of Bones is attracted to her."

"Stop evading the question," Max said, leveling his gaze at Booth. "Look, I know you think I might be trying to make up for lost time in sticking my big fat nose into Tempe's business, but I'm not. I, just—I really want her to be happy. But, sometimes she too much like me for her own good, so, on occasion, Tempe needs to be told what'll make her happy. It's for her own good, really."

"Meaning what, Max?" Booth asked. "Because, this, I gotta hear... telling Bones what to do for her own good? Yeah, right. Dazzle me with how that works and neither one of us end up eating our own spleen."

Tilting his head in a way that was eerily reminiscent of Brennan, Max said seriously, "She's so afraid of being happy, when the happiness is right there in front of her, ripe for the taking, she gets too afraid to reach out and grab on to it for all she's worth. Tempe just stops and stares, and never gets into the game herself because she's scared and is afraid she's gonna get hurt. Her mother, thank God, wouldn't let me get away with that, and Tempe needs a man who'll do the same thing for her." As he finished speaking the last sentence, Max's eyes narrowed at Booth, who instantly took the meaning of the older man's look.

"That guy's not me, Max," Booth sighed, a bit of wistfulness coming into his voice.

"Why not?"

"I just know, okay? I know, Bones. And, I know, as much as I wish it might be different, that guy... the guy who's supposed to do that for her, be for her what her mom was to you? That guy's just not me."

"You sound awful certain about that," Max observed.

"I am," Booth admitted. "But, even if it were just for a split second that I thought I was wrong, I'd move so fast and so hard to lock Bones down, she wouldn't know what had happened until it was too late. I wouldn't let her run away from me, Max. But, since I'm not that guy, it's not like that will ever happen, so-"

"You sure about that, kid?" Max interrupted Booth with a penetrating stare.

"Which part?" asked in slight confusion.

"All of it," Max laughed at him. "All of it."

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><p>-TBC-<p> 


	4. That Time Brennan Didn't Understand

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

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><p>Ch 4: That Time Brennan Didn't Understand<p>

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><p>The upbeat and repetitive music, combined with the laughter of young children, floated on the breeze to Brennan's ears as she watched Parker riding on the carousel. The late afternoon sun warmed her skin as she sat on a bench in Hillside Park. Booth sat beside her on the bench, tense and riddled with guilt, as he watched his son - who was smiling and happily enjoying the ride, in a marked contrast to his father's brooding demeanor. At that moment, Brennan refocused on what Booth was saying. It wasn't that she had meant to tune out, but her desire to hear Booth lament the loss of his relationship with Cam was almost nonexistent. It wasn't that she didn't sympathize with either one of them, because she did - to the best of her ability. And, she did want to be a support partner and friend to Booth. But, there was only so much she could handle at any one time. So, while Brennan wasn't giving Booth her complete and undivided attention, she did participate in their conversation as she half-listened, half-let her mind wander. However, she immediately noticed when Booth's demeanor shifted a bit, as marked by when his voice suddenly softened just a fraction, so much so that it was almost indiscernible from his earlier tone of voice - to all but Brennan. She was suddenly glad she had chosen to actually pay attention to what she was responding to as Booth continued to speak after the shift she had noticed in him occurred.<p>

"Yeah. People who work in . . . high-risk situations they can't be involved romantically because it leads to things like what happened," Booth told her.

Brennan became slightly confused at his words. Combined with his slight change in tone, she was suddenly unsure if Booth was referencing his self-confessed recent break up with Cam… or maybe - just maybe - something _else_?

"High-risk situations," Brennan offered lamely in response as she tried to maintain her end of the conversation, but feeling slightly foolish as she merely repeated Booth's own phrasing as she struggled to make sense of his possible double talk.

Booth nodded, not seeming to notice her unease, as if her parroted words had been the perfect thing to say. "Every single day it's with us. There's this line, and we can't cross it. You know what I'm saying?"

Shaking her head, frustration mounting, Brennan suddenly looked at Booth, directly in the eyes and said, "No, Booth. I'm sorry, I don't."

"Which part, Bones?" Booth asked indulgently.

Holding his gaze, Brennan said honestly, "All of it." She took a breath and then pushed onward. "A line? What line? Where? Where do you see a line, Booth? How did it just suddenly appear? And, if there was something that kind of looked like a line, who said that that's definitely what it is? Why does it have to be a line? And, more importantly, who suddenly said there was this line that was applicable to us, between _us_?"

"It's not a physical line, Bones," Booth said, hesitating as he grappled to find the right words to make her understand. "It's… metaphorical."

"Why?" Brennan pressed. "To what end?"

Booth looked at her, a bit of exasperation coming into his face at her numerous questions. "Because, Bones. We.. what happened between Cam and I? That… that can't ever happen between you and I."

"Us participating in a mutually exclusive sexual relationship or you breaking up with me because you're afraid?" Brennan asked plainly.

For a split second, Booth looked like she had hit him as hard as she could in the gut with her blatant directness. But, shaking it off, he quickly recovered and answered her question.

"Either," Booth muttered. "Both. Geez, Bones," Booth sighed, running his hand through his hair in anxiety. "You aren't making this easy for me."

"Why should I?" Brennan said. "You and me, Booth… that… that means it's both of us, not just one of us. It's not fair for you to unilaterally dictate things like this."

"Both of us?" Booth asked. "Since when is there a 'both of us'?"

"Hasn't there always been, Booth?" Brennan pointed out. "Since the very first day, we've called it all different types of things – sexual attraction, a partnership, just to name a few of the ones we more frequently employ. But, as it's most simple form, it always comes down to the same thing... you and me."

"That's no good, Bones. I just... if something were to happen to you because of something I did or didn't do, it- I can't lose you, Bones," Booth said. "I can't—I just can't do it."

"Why do you think you'd lose me?" Brennan asked. "We've worked well enough without any stupid line between us for almost two years, and you haven't lost me yet. Why do we need to change things now?"

"I don't know, Bones," Booth admitted, realizing her logic did make a certain amount of sense, from a certain point of view. "I-"

"We don't need any line between us, Booth. Things are just fine as they are," Brennan insisted.

"You really think so?" Booth asked quietly.

Brennan nodded. "Yes. I do."

"Okay, so, yeah- maybe… it was a stupid idea, wasn't it?" Booth asked, hopefully as he looked at Brennan.

"Yeah, Booth. It was, is really. It really, _really _is a stupid idea," Brennan agreed with a smile.

Looking at her, Booth returned it with a grin of his own, thoughts of establishing any line between them quickly and finally forgotten.

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><p>-TBC-<p> 


	5. That Time Booth Tried to Set the Rules

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

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><p>Ch 5: That Time Booth Tried to Set the Rules<p>

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><p>Brennan saw that Booth was clearly agitated with so many people of the Jeffersonian suddenly invading his domain. It amused her, to see the tightly controlled FBI agent flustered enough that he had begun to scramble for what control he could in the midst of so much rapid change.<p>

"Okay fine, new rules. This counter is mine. That booth is yours. Everything else around here, alright, mine. Alright, mine…M-I-N-E, mine," Booth reiterated, more to reassure himself, it seemed to Brennan, than because his claims were actual statements of fact.

Trying to hope that a compliment might appease him and assuage some of his obviously aggressive behavior, Brennan said, "I've been thinking about your whole 'something stinks' aptitude. I think you have a subconscious knack for reading body language, stress in the voice, and other subtle, but discernable, indicators. It's not mysterious, but it is impressive, and in the future, I will try to record it in an appropriate degree of objective worth."

Booth nodded at her, tilting his head in a slightly less hostile manner. "Thank you, Temperance. Appreciate that." They looked at each other for a minute, during which, Brennan had hope that maybe her pacifying words had had the ameliorating effects on Booth for which she had wished. Unfortunately, an reflection of a positive response disappeared as soon as Booth nodded at her a second time, this time with a question. "So, uh, what part of 'this is mine' did you not understand? Do I have to say it in Latin?"

Forcing herself not to flush, Brennan decided to respond in kind. _Fine. If Booth wants to act like a muscle-dragging Neanderthal, then I'm going to treat him like one_. "I would very much like to see that," Brennan said with a tilt of her head. Moving to sit next to Booth at the bar, Brennan threw herself down into the seat to make it clear she had no intention of leaving it any time soon. "I doubt that you know enough Latin to be able to pull it off, actually."

"Why are you sitting down?" Booth glared at her. "I just told you. Squints over there, non-squints, i.e., me, over here."

"Just because you say it to be so does not make it thus, Booth," Brennan said. Booth opened his mouth to say something, but Brennan interrupted him with a look and a sly tone creeping into her voice as she said, "But, I'm willing to make you a deal."

"Huh," Booth laughed. "A deal? You, make a deal, with me? About what?"

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "I believe that's what I just said. Shall I propose the terms and see if we can reach an accommodation, or what, Booth?"

Chuckling, Booth reached for his drink and sipped it for a minute before he said, "Okay, Bones. What'd ya have in mind?"

"Despite the fact that I find your tendency to make imperious proclamations, such as the one you did about what part of this public establishment is your own personal fiefdom, quite, _quite _tedious, Booth, I offer this compromise. You tell me that 'this is mine' in Latin, and I'll make certain everyone from the lab stays away from your precious bar," Brennan said.

Booth narrowed his eyes at her and said, "And, if you win?"

"If I win," Brennan said, leaning in just a bit closer to Booth, lowering her voice as she held his stare with her own intense gaze.

"Yeah, Bones?" Booth asked.

"If I win," Brennan said in a lower, and, if Booth didn't know any better, more sultry voice. "You're picking up the tab for the entire squint squad's meals tonight. Deal?"

At this, Booth suddenly frowned. "All of them?"

"Yes," Brennan grinned, pulling back, happy to see she had distracted Booth. "Are we agreed?"

Pursing his lips, Booth shook his head as he said, "Nope. I'm not making that deal."

"Ha!" Brennan suddenly shouted in excited glee. She pointed a finger at him in mocking. "I knew it! I knew you couldn't do it. 'Say it in Latin'. Right, Booth, right."

"I know Latin," Booth said, becoming a bit more annoyed as he looked at Brennan's triumphant smile.

"Then say it," Brennan challenged him. "Say 'this is mine'. In Latin, Booth. Go ahead. Say it."

"No," Booth said, shaking his head again. "I don't do on-command performances of Cicero."

"Because you don't know how," Brennan scoffed.

"Yes, I do," Booth insisted.

"No, you don't," Brennan countered, shaking her head again, the winning smile still on her face.

Setting his empty beer bottle on the counter, Booth pulled out his wallet and tossed a few bills on the bar. He nodded his goodbyes to Sid, who stood watching the pair with mild interest from several feet away. Standing, Booth leaned in towards Brennan, obviously invading her personal space as he said, "You know, Bones, one of these days, you're gonna see why it's not a good idea to keep challenging me all the time."

"You don't scare me, Booth," Brennan laughed.

Leaning in further so that his head was only a few inches away from hers, Booth narrowed his eyes as he lowered his voice and said quietly to Brennan, "Well, I should, Bones. And, if you're very lucky and want to know why… unus dies ego mos vos ostendo."

Brennan, mouth open in dumbstruck disbelief, watched as Booth pulled back, smirked at her in an aggrivatingly charming way, and then turned away from the bar and walked at the front door.

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><p>-TBC-<p> 


	6. That Time Booth Wanted to Be Alone

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

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><p>Ch 6: That Time Booth Wanted to Be Alone<p>

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><p>Sitting next to each other at her dining room table, the music playing softly in the background, Booth sipped his beer as Brennan sat down and began to spoon some of the macaroni and cheese she had made onto her plate. He watched her for a few seconds and then smiled at her before continuing his earlier train of thought.<p>

"Oh, I mean, you shouldn't have. I mean, all this work… just for me?" he said, half-joking, half-serious.

Shaking her head, Brennan said, "What? No, I mean. It wasn't that much."

Booth lifted his fork and considered her causal dismissal of his question. He swallowed a sigh and grabbed a fork full of mac and cheese. Bringing it to his mouth, as soon as Booth tasted the creamy warm concoction, he immediately felt a significant wave of pleasure wash over him. He closed his eyes for a minute, savoring the wonderful flavors, letting the tartness of the sharp cheddar cheese that Brennan had mixed with a softer and smokier provolone cheese roll over him. Not realizing that he had let out a small moan of contentment, Booth immediately came to the conclusion that he didn't really care when he opened his eyes to see Brennan looking at him expectantly.

Grasping his fork, he held it in mid-air, as he reemphasized how happy her culinary masterpiece had made him. "Mmmmm."

Immediately, Brennan relaxed and seemed to blush a bit at Booth's sigh of approval.

Nodding at her, his grin widening as he chewed another mouthful, Booth said, "This is unbelievable."

A bit of hesitation creeping into her voice, Brennan asked, almost shyly, "You like it?"

Uncertain as to why Brennan would be nervous about anything she did, Booth nodded again. His dark brown eyes twinkling, he then tilted his head as he laughed, "I'd like to be alone with it."

Perhaps he stopped and held her gaze because of the insecurity that Booth though he sensed in her voice. Insecurity over- well, Booth wasn't quite certain exactly what – wanting to impress him? Or, maybe, wanting to… please him with her cooking skills? Booth almost pushed the thought aside as too feminine, too… *domestic* to apply to Brennan. But, looking at her, watching Brennan as she stared at him with this look that was part expectant, part nervous, part hopeful, he stopped as he suddenly realized… Brennan was analyzing him. _Why would she think that I wouldn't like whatever it was she made for me? _Booth wondered. _It's not like I'm all that picky an eater, anyway… so what does it matter? What am I missing here? What's the big deal?_

At that particular moment, Brennan decided to choose the most inopportune of instances to be her densely literal self as she said interrupted Booth's inner monologue. Glancing back at her, Booth noticed that Brennan's look had shifted again. Apparently, she had seen something pass over Booth's face that had resulted in her coming to some sort of decision. Her assessment made, Brennan arched an eyebrow at Booth and said, "So, is that comment your way of communicating to me that you have a sexual fetish about food, Booth?"

Booth almost choked on the bit of macaroni that he had been about to swallow. As he began coughing, turning a slight red from his partner's question more so than the actual food partially caught in his windpipe, Brennan quickly stood up and began to sharply pound on Booth's back.

"Bones," Booth gasped as she continued to hit his back. "Quite it! What are you doing—"

As he twisted around in his seat, Brennan dropped her hand, concern clearly evident on her face as she said, "Are you okay, Booth?"

"If you'd stop hitting me, I would be, yeah," Booth grumbled.

Frowning, Brennan returned to her seat, and Booth grabbed his beer. Taking a sip, he watched Brennan for a few seconds and then said, "Now, why were you hitting me, Bones?"

"It appeared," Brennan began, "that you had somehow managed to lodge a piece of food in your esophagus, effectively blocking your intake of air. I was attempting to help you clear that obstruction so that you wouldn't choke to death, Booth."

He stared at her for a minute, and then said, "Oh. Uh, thanks, Bones- I think."

"You're quite welcome, Booth," Brennan said with a smile. Picking up her own fork, Brennan resumed eating her macaroni and cheese. Again, Booth watched her. She waited until she was certain that Booth didn't have any food or drink in his mouth when Brennan then asked, "So, Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Are you going to answer my question?" Brennan replied.

Booth looked at her in confusion as he said, "What question?"

"The question I just asked you," Brennan said simply. "The one about you having a sexual fetish about—"

"Whoa, there, Bones!" Booth said, making a hand gesture for timeout that Brennan didn't recognize. "Okay, now what's it with you and the sex questions, huh?"

"Well," Brennan said, tilting her head at him in curiosity. "When you made the statement that my macaroni and cheese was good enough that you wished to be alone with it, I inferred from that statement your implied desire to obtain some form of sexual gratification from it that you only felt comfortable enough to achieve in privacy. Did I ere in making my assumption?"

At this, trying to see if she was serious or not, Booth finally realized that Brennan *was* serious, and he couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't have a fetish about food, Bones."

"Oh," Brennan said, seeming to deflate at his short statement. "Well, my apologies for making an incorrect assumption."

The way she said it almost made Booth think he had detected just a slight bit of disappointment in her voice. Then, Brennan then looked at Booth, and the look she gave him almost confirmed it, at least enough that he felt comfortable to tease her back… slightly.

"Of course," Booth began. "If this is *your* way of telling me that you have some sexual fetish that you'd like to confess, I'm all ears, Bones." He stopped, and somewhat strangely felt the desire to let his eyes roam appreciatively over her figure. He could tell that Brennan knew what he was doing as her own eyes seemed to darken slightly as she watched him watching her. He nodded in appreciation as he repeated, "I'm *definitely* all ears."

Brennan stared at Booth for a few seconds, and then returned his serve with a volley of her own. "And, if I did have some… sexual proclivities that I wished to discuss with you, Booth, what would your response be to that?"

Picking up his beer, and seeing that it was almost empty, he gestured with it vaguely in the air before he gulped down what little was remaining of the amber liquid. Smacking his lips in appreciation, Booth set the empty glass down on the table and held Brennan's level gaze as he said, "I think my response to that would be, I'm going to need another beer, Bones, because… I'm game if you are."

A slow smile cracking her face, Brennan stood and said, "I've got one in the freezer. I'll be right back."

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	7. That Time Booth Said I Love You

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 7: That Time Booth Said I Love You<p>

* * *

><p>As the partners walked down the street, Brennan was uncertain how to respond to Booth's odd behavior. Things had been strange between them for some time, distant in many ways, and she was once again coming to doubt her decision. Had she really made the best choice when she left Booth after his surgery? Had it really been that fair of her to leave him when she did?<p>

Yes, a few days after Booth came out of his coma, when she knew he was medically stable, she had bolted from DC. She had gone to Guatemala for six weeks, ostensibly to participate in a humanitarian mission to begin identify a new cache of victims found in a mass grave found outside of Quetzaltenango. In reality, she had spent ten days helping UN aid workers in their makeshift lab at the anthropology department housed on the university grounds at San Carlos de Guatemala. But, after those ten days, Brennan, without telling anyone, had actually spent the rest the six weeks for which she had been gone sitting on a beach in Monterrico. Brennan had spent much of each day just staring at the water, letting the rays of the warm sun rain down on her body, as her brain contemplated what had happened. Brennan had spent a lot of time thinking about those days just before, during, and just after the events that surrounded Booth's brain surgery. She didn't know how else to cope.

_How fast things had changed_, Brennan thought. Finally, *finally* Brennan had reached a point in her life where she thought she was ready to take the next step. _I was strong enough, brave enough, and ready to take control of my life to make something that was just *mine* - a family_. Brennan had decided she was going to create a new family, and it would be one that would never fall a part because she left it. Daring to hope, although she never would admit it to anyone – lest of all herself – Brennan also believed that her decision maybe, just *maybe* might act as a final balm to the pain caused by the one she had lost so many years before when her parents and brother abandoned her. _I was going to have a baby, and then I know I would finally have someone who loved me unconditionally and would never leave me_. It had been a euphoric feeling really, for those two days when Booth had agreed to be her donor, and Brennan prepared for the insemination. She finally felt as if things were happening as they were meant to – not that she believed in a ludicrous idea like fate. But, then, Booth had gotten sick and needed surgery. For some reason she still didn't know, while she was holding vigil at his bedside, Brennan had written that damn book, and when Booth finally did wake up – as if to taunt Brennan with what she only then started to realize she had lost once again, the dream of her new family – he thought they were married and expecting a baby. _It was so unfair, so *very* unfair._

And, in the end, the inequity had been too much really. _Too much to deal with, all at once_, Brennan thought. So, as soon as she had made certain that Booth was out of immediate medical danger, Brennan had left. She jumped at the chance to go to Guatemala, to put as much distance between herself and DC as possible. _It was selfish, I knew, very selfish. But, I didn't know what else to do, or how else to cope. I needed time and space to think, to compartmentalize, and I couldn't do that here_. She needed some time to lick her wounds, to deal with the bitter disappointment of watching the dream of her family slip through her fingers, and so Brennan did what she always did best in such situations – she ran.

Now, reluctantly back in DC and returned to work, confronted with this familiar, but unfamiliar Booth, Brennan was half-thinking that maybe she hadn't made the best decision, after all. _Maybe I should'nt have left? Would things be this awkward between us if I had? Or, maybe I wasn't ready to return from Monterrico, after all. Maybe I did need more time away from DC, from the lab, from work, and most of all, maybe... Booth? __Maybe I haven't been as successful as I thought I've been in compartmentalizing all my emotional turmoil - the bitter disappointment and overwhelming sadness. I'll adjust, I lknow I will, but I think I need more time, and until then, I'm just not certain how to help Booth cope with his own changes. I want to be a good partner and to help him, but I'm not even certain how to handle his issues at the same time as my own problems. How do I fix this? How do I fix him? How do I fix us?_ Such thoughts swirled in her head as they continued chatting absentmindedly about the post-surgery changes Booth had experienced as they made their way slowly down the street.

"Well, I'm sure in a few weeks you'll hate clowns again," Brennan offered lamely. "Be back to normal."

Booth stared at her for a moment, somewhat more nervous than Brennan thought she'd noticed him being even a few moments earlier. Nodding his head, Booth weakly agreed, "Yeah, a few weeks."

Suddenly, a part of her brain processing the meaning of one of Booth's earlier statements, Brennan stopped walking and looked up at Booth. "What did you want to tell me?"

The look Booth gave Brennan was one she hadn't ever seen before on his face. Suddenly, as if a mask had been removed, and she could see the *real* Seeley Booth for the first time in the entire time they'd known each other, Brennan felt a knot form in her stomach. His eyes, a light with emotion, held her gaze intently, and it was almost too much for her to deal with in her current fragmented frame of mind. It was almost as if Booth was trying to convey a slew of thoughts and emotions to her nonverbally, telepathically transmitting them to Brennan with that single look – a look that made her breath catch in her throat, her stomach roll to the point she thought she might throw up, and her toes curl in pleasure. And, then, suddenly, he broke the spell between them as Booth spoke – and the anticipation shattered, Brennan's mind went from tumultuous to chaotic as the result of four simple words.

"That I love you," Booth told her quietly.

It took Brennan's brain a moment to replay in her mind what Booth had just had. Had she heard him correctly? Was there in any way possible anyway she might've misunderstood his statement? And, then, once Brennan decided, no, there wasn't, her brain started to analyze the brief statement in a thousand different ways.

_Why was Booth saying that he loves me? _

_Why was Booth saying that he loves me *now*?_

_Did he mean it when he said he loves me?_

_If he does mean it, what does *that* mean?_

_How *should* I feel about him saying it?_

_How *do* I feel about him saying it?_

_What does Booth want from me?_

_What did I want from Booth?_

_What happens next?_

Brennan started to feel dizzy as her brain attempted to answer these and many other questions. It was almost as if she had overloaded the system, and her brain started to slow down as it tried to process things because it refused to work under such strenuous conditions. Duress was never a state to which she'd ever responded well mentally.

Booth seemed to be watching Brennan in expectation. As he saw a series of facial expressions cross her face, he immediately panicked and knew he'd made a mistake. Fumbling for some way to backpedal, Booth opened his mouth to speak to soften his statement – soften, he decided, soften, yes. But, no, he couldn't take it back, Booth decided. He just couldn't. About to speak to try to assuage Brennan's own messy emotional response to his words, Booth was cut off when Brennan suddenly looked him square in the eye and focused on the one question more than any others to which she needed to know the answer.

"Do… do you mean that?" she asked softly. Holding his gaze, Brennan tilted her head. She seemed to be pleading with Booth as her blue eyes implored him to say the right thing, but for what specific answer, Booth wasn't quite certain. "Do you really mean that, Booth?"

Swallowing only once, Booth nodded slowly. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"But... why?"

The question caught Booth off-guard. His confession made, Booth had expected Brennan to bolt from him in fear as fast as her two legs could carry her away from him. When she didn't, he couldn't dare to hope, but at least he took it as a positive sign that she was willing to talk. Knowing that he was in for a penny, in for a pound by that point, Booth chose his next words with care.

"Because you're a part of me, Bones," Booth said simply. "I could give you a thousand facts or examples about why I love you, but the most simple one is that at some point… you've become a part of me. I can't… I don't know how to be the man I know I should be unless you're there as a part of the picture… and, so, I love you. I do."

"You sound quite certain of that," Brennan said, her voice no more than a whisper.

"As certain as I am of just about anything I know, Bones, yeah," Booth told her.

"I—"

"Don't," Booth said, sensing her hesitation. "You don't have to say anything, Bones. I'm not… I'm not expecting you to say anything. I just wanted to tell you that… and you have no idea how happy I am that you're not halfway back to the lab by now."

"I want to run," Brennan admitted. "But, not because of what you just told me, Booth."

Hope again flared in his chest, and again Booth worked to smother it. Looking at her, Booth said, "Why do you want to run, Bones?"

"Because," she said softly, tears pricking at the edge of her eyes. "I… I thought I'd lost my chance, and I'm scared to let you get my hopes up."

"Your chance for what?"

Turning her head away from him, Brennan sniffled slightly, and hated herself for doing it. Quickly brushing the tears away, she said softly, "A family."

Booth took a step towards her, closing the distance between them, and pulled her towards him. Brennan stiffened slightly at the movement, but didn't resist as he pulled her close to him. Taking his hand, he tilted her face up towards his and said quietly, "You haven't. That is, if you don't want to have lost it, you haven't."

"I haven't what, Booth?" Brennan asked, blinking away the fresh tears.

"You haven't lost your chance, Bones," Booth told her softly. Leveling his intense gaze at hers, Booth said, "If you still want it, we'll make it happen."

"How?" she dared to breathe.

"I'm not quite sure," Booth told her. "But, we'll figure it out. Someway, we'll figure it out, and I'll - I'll be your family, Bones."

"Really?"

"Yeah, if that's what you want," Booth told her, bringing his hand to brush away a tear that had rolled down her cheek.

"Okay."

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	8. That Time Booth Admitted the Standard

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 8: That Time Booth Admitted the Standard<p>

* * *

><p>She didn't want to be having this conversation. She really didn't. But, he'd listened to her wax on about Andrew Hacker, and as partners and friends, at the very least, Brennan owed Booth the same courtesy, even if it was shredding her metaphorical heart to pieces every time she thought of Booth and the marine biologist, together, in a social sense.<p>

_Together. And, she has a PhD, _Brennan thought. _She's a scientist with a PhD, who has brown hair and blue eyes. Surely, that's not a coincidence? Booth's never dated a brunette before that I know of… he prefers blondes. Surely, him succumbing to the overtures of a woman like Catherine Bryar isn't coincidental? The timing... it's got to mean something, right? I know... I know after we had that horrible, horrible conversation in front of the Hoover that he said he was going to have to move on from his feelings about me, but- is this how he's going to do it? Find someone like me so that he can... replace me? Is that it? Is he trying to replace me already? Or, is he just trying to do what I'm doing – use a pale imitation to cope with not having the real thing? This is so infuriatingly confusing._

Booth had made another comment about Bryar as they walked towards the elevators, and Brennan – who was only half paying attention as she struggled with her thoughts– said vaguely, "She's very nice. The two of you seem compatible."

"Maybe," Booth answered her vague comment with a vague response of his own. "We'll see."

Still feeling a bit self-conscious, Brennan couldn't help it as she suddenly and quite desperately needed to know what Booth thought of Bryar. Her full attention returned to her partner, Brennan met his gaze and tried to seem as informal as possible as she spoke, despite the fact that she had chosen each word she uttered with deliberate care and consideration.

"She's easily as pretty as I am," Brennan seemed to muse nonchalantly. Booth looked at her for a few seconds, but, despite her claim, he seemed content to remain quiet. Realizing she wasn't going to get him to answer to the question that she really needed to hear, Brenan then added, " I mean, using me as a standard."

This time as she spoke, this time, her words did elicit a response from her partner. Booth stared at her, a look of blatant honesty on his face. Brennan recognized that look. It flashed on his face quickly, only for a few brief seconds before it was gone. She could tell Booth was doing his best to push it away and hide it. However, Brennan _knew_ that look now - it was the same look of pure honest emotion that had shone on Booth's face the night he had tried to push her to make a choice before she was ready to dos so and things had gone wrong so very badly. It twisted in Brennan's gut like a knife, and immediately, she again began to wonder if she had made a mistake. The metaphorical knife went in a bit deeper to her psyche when Booth met her eyes and said, "Bones, you are the standard."

And, there it was - her answer... and it wasn't the one that Brennan had been expecting.

Suddenly, the pain in her heart that had seemed to be growing each time she thought of what had happened when she panicked and rejected Booth seemed to fade just a little bit. In it's place, Brennan found a new sensation replacing it. She wasn't quite certain what it was, but she knew it wasn't all bad. It didn't hurt, and that in and of itself was a positive thing.

Finally, unable to help herself, Brennan felt herself half-blush in pleased embarrassment and half-flush in pleasurable hope. _He still cares about me? _Brennan thought. _After all I've done to him? He still cares about me? How is that even possible? That doesn't make any logical sense_. And, so, ever the scientist, Brennan sought empirical verification of her assumption. Lifting her gaze to meet Booth, she ventured quietly, "Really?"

The look of disbelief that washed over Booth's face heartened Brennan even as his words suddenly soothed a growing insecurity that Brennan unknowingly had seemed to develop about Booth when he replied, "Of course, really. Why would you ever doubt that?"

Looking away, Brennan was silent for a minute. The deluge of new data, united only in the fact that it was about emotions, Booth, and Booth and Brennan, seemed like it might be confusing to her. However, in reality, the information merely combined to crytalize a thought that had been at the edge of Brennan's conscious mind for some time now. Realizing the foolishness of her previous thoughts, Brennan knew all she could do was admit the error and any subsequent assumptions she had made because of said error. She began that process by confessing to Booth with a small shrug of her shoulders. "Because."

"Because, why, Bones?" Booth pressed her.

"Because," Brennan repeated. "I thought… maybe, that since you said—"

Her voice trailed off. Booth shifted on the balls of his feet, watching as Brennan stood in front of the elevator. Fortunately, fate seemed to be favoring him, as the elevator seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of time to arrive.

"Since I said what, Bones?" Booth asked again.

Her eyes darting around nervously, Brennan tilted her head at she looked a Booth. She knew what she needed to do, and it wasn't that she was particularly afraid of doing it, but- she suddenly wished they weren't in such a public place. Finally, she bit her lip only for a couple of seconds before she said, "I.. I'll answer your question, Booth. But—not here, okay?"

"Okay," he said with a nod, understanding what Brennan was saying without her having to say it. "Do you have enough time to come back to my office?"Booth offered.

Brennan reached for her phone. Flipping it open, she glanced at the clock, and realized how late she already was to her coffee date with Hacker. Prioritizing her goals, Brennan quickly punched a few buttons on the phone, sent the apologetic text message, turned the phone to silent, and then firmly closed it before she placed it back in her pocket. Nodding, Brennan said, "I do now." She then took a step away from the elevator and moved back down the familiar corridor.

Booth followed as Brennan walked towards his office. Once the two of them were inside the safety offered by the familiar refuge of Booth's domain, he shut the door. Gesturing to their normal pair of chairs under his lithograph of Hoover and the Kennedy Brothers where they usually sat during the more informal discussions they sometimes had had in this place over the years, Booth waited for Brennan to sit down before he would follow her lead.

After hesistating only for a few seconds, as she tentatively sat down in her usual spot, Brennan nodded at Booth and said, "Can you shut the blinds, please?"

"Sure," Booth said, refraining from questioning the strange nature of his request. Booth could sense the shift in Brennan's demeanor, and although he couldn't explain _why _it had happened, he knew her well enough to trust his gut when it said 'proceed with caution.' Once he had done as Brennan asked, Booth returned to his own chair and sat down as casually as he could manage. Leveling his gaze at her Booth said, "Okay now?"

Brennan nodded slowly as she looked at him. She took a deep breath and then said, "What I was going to say before—"

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Well," Brennan said, suddenly pushing forward with a confidence that put Booth off a little when he had read hesistation and nervousness in her bearing only a couple of minutes earlier. "I... well, what I was going to say - and I can't really explain why I thought this, Booth, I just did - but, I thought that maybe after that... that night… when you said that you needed to move on?" She stumbled over those last words, and Booth felt himself unintentionally tense at her mention of their ill-fated conversation. However, he remained quiet, and Brennan seemed to steel her resolve as she quickly resumed speaking. "Well, I thought that maybe, now, given Catherine's interests in you that you'd somehow managed to do it rather expediently and moved on... that you'd finally done it with Catherine, and so, logically, I surmised that I could no longer be your standard." She paused, stopping to swiftly intake a deep breath before she added softly, "I thought you'd replaced me already, and so that's why I thought-"

Shaking his head, Booth interrupted her as he said slowly, "That could never happen."

"But, why?" Brennan asked.

"Because," Booth insisted. "I'm just dating her, Bones. It's... casual. It's not like I'm marrying her."

"But," Brennan began. "Logically, a male pursues a female with the goal of mating with her in the hopes of establishing a long-relationship whereby they—"

"Bones, stop," Booth said gently, but emphatically. He nodded at her and said, "Just stop for a second, huh?"

Biting her lip, Brennan slowly nodded.

"You'll always be my standard," Booth told her. He seemed to be testing each word on his tongue before he continued. "Catherine, well, to be honest, Bones? I'm only with her right now because I can't be with the person I really want to be with… and, Catherine, well, she's just enough like the real thing that sometimes, just sometimes, I can forget who she is and pretend… and then I don't feel quite as lonely as I did. Do you understand that?"

Her brow furrowed in sadness, Brennan said softly, "I'm so sorry."

"For what?" Booth asked, truly uncertain was to why Brennan seemed to be upset.

"I never meant to hurt you," she told him. "I never meant to make you feel badly."

Booth considered her words for a moment before he nodded. "I know that, Bones. I know that."

Suddenly, her hand shooting out to reach his, Brennan pulled it firmly towards her lap as she intertwined her fingers with his. Booth didn't resist, and finally met her eyes when Brennan looked up at his. "Will… will you let me—"

"Let you what, Bones?" Booth breathed, not daring to hope once again that she was about to say something he'd only dreamed.

"Will you let me make it up to you?" Brennan promised. "Please? I… I can't stand it anymore, Booth. I've been driving myself crazy whenever I think of you and her, together. And, it's torture. Pure psychological torture. And, more importantly, I don't want to do it anymore. I… I want to be the one that maybe… maybe I can be the one to make you feel less lonely than you did before?"

Holding her gaze with his, Booth nodded. "You really mean that, Bones? Do...do you understand what you're saying by making an offer like that?"

"I know you think I don't," Brennan admitted. "I know... given what I said before... I know it doesn't make any sense, Booth. I _know _that. And, I can't explain it, but... I'm going with my 'gut' on this one-" Booth seemed to chuckle at this small comment, and it made Brennan feel better in a situation that suddenly seemed so serious and so strange to her. But, still, as if she were blindly groping in the dark, Brennan struggled for the right words. "But, yes," Brennan nodded. "I do. I do really mean it. And, I do understand what I'm saying... and I still want to make the offer- that is… if you want me to?"

His warm brown eyes held her slightly bewildered blue ones for a minute. Brennan waited for the proverbial other shoe to drop before a smile suddenly cracked the edge of the solemnity that had settled over Booth's face. The smile then slowly widened, and grinning at her, Booth squeezed Brennan's hand reassuringly as he said, "That's all I've ever wanted, Bones. You. Just you."

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	9. That Time Brennan Collected Evidence

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 9: That Time Brennan Collected Evidence<p>

* * *

><p>To say it was a surreal experience, Booth thought, was an understatement. Sitting on the examination table in the bones room, with Brennan eying him like he was a pile of evidence to be processed was slightly unnerving. She had looked at him many times over the years, her emotional responses running the gamut from angry and exasperated to relieved and joyful. However, Brennan had never looked at him like he was a simple pile of data to be assessed and processed - until today.<p>

He was grateful that she went through the motions of maintaining some casual conversation, about Parker and the holidays. Yes, Booth was grateful, even if he did think it strange that Brennan was alternating between chatting about Christmas dinner and tossing out compliments about his perfect… well, Booth couldn't quite recall which part of his skeleton had impressed Brennan. But, he did know that it pleased him to know she thought that he was exceptional. _And, if you'd just give me the chance, I'd show you some other areas where I've managed to perfect my skills,_ Booth thought. He then immediately mentally smacked himself down for having _those _types of thoughts about his partner, even as Brennan politely asked him to get off the table and stand up. As he complied with her request, in his movements, Booth thought he caught a whiff of the milk and honey body wash she'd used for as long as he'd known her. Taking a deeper breath, Booth nodded as he confirmed his assessment. _Yup, that's, Bones_, Booth thought. _I'd know her scent anywhere. _He pushed, indulging himself with a couple of more deep breaths, and then thought ruefully, _God, I just hope it doesn't start to drive me nuts, 'cause that's really the last thing I need. Not here, not now, and please not when she's this close. But, I should be okay just as long as I don't smell her body wash *and* her shampoo. Yeah, I should be good_- Booth's internal monologue was interrupted when Brennan suddenly moved, and she was soon kneeling down in front of Booth. It only took a few seconds before the smell hit him, and when it did, Booth immediately felt his body tense at the sensation. _Oh, no. That's… yeah, that's her shampoo. Oh, God. I'm screwed. So screwed. And, oh, wow- she smells good. Really, really good._

As Booth's brain caught up with processing the sensory information, it suddenly dawned on him that Brennan was _kneeling_, in front of _him_, and she was reaching for his _belt buckle_.

"Whoa!" Booth said, instinctively wanting to back away from her, but finding himself unable to do so with the examination table pressed up against his back. "What... what? Is there stuff on my pants?"

Brennan nodded innocently. "Yeah. Vascular tissue on your Cocky belt buckle."

She then reached for the belt buckle, quickly removed it and set it on the evidence tray before she deftly loosened the belt and pulled it free from the loops of his suit's trousers. The swift movement sent a tingle throughout Booth's body, and his brain immediately sent a warning that he prayed wouldn't be ignored. _This is not what it seems like_. _This is you're partner. She's collecting evidence for a murder investigation. Don't screw this up, Booth. Just… don't._

As Brennan set the belt on the examination tray, Booth nervously said, "Oh, right. Slides right off, and, uh, we're done."

Shaking her head, Brennan looked up at him and said decisively, "No."

Looking at her, the confusion evident on his face, Booth tilted his head as he asked, "Huh?"

Nodding at him, Brennan finally said the words that Booth had spent years dreaming about her saying to him. And, moreover, Brennan said them with a completely straight face, a face so deadpan that Booth knew she wasn't a good enough actress to be lying as a part of some horribly cruel joke. "I have to remove your pants."

He saw her mouth move, and Booth knew he had heard Brennan speak the words. But, his mind immediately prioritized the sensory information it was choosing to process when Booth felt a tug at the waistband of his trousers. Again, Brennan's nimble fingers were deftly pulling the buttons of his pants free, and as she started to slowly push the trousers off his hips, Booth knew he was fighting a losing battle with himself.

"All right, you know, I'm just gonna start reciting some saints, you know-"

At Booth's obvious discomfort, Brennan tried to stifle a laugh that she had been holding in from a good two to three minutes. She reveled in seeing Booth squirm under her scientific ministrations, and a part of her also delighted that she was _finally _being allowed to touch him in this way… the way she had dreamed of touching him for years, even if it just was _finally _just occurring in the course of conducting an investigation. Forcing herself not to lift her eyes to meet his, Brennan felt Booth's body tense again as she slowly pulled the pants down his legs, but she couldn't keep herself from allowing a small smile to crack the corners of her mouth as she heard Booth begin to mutter to himself.

"St. Joseph, St. Peter, St. Paul, St. John-"

When she had set the pants on the examination tray, Brennan allowed herself to sneak a peak at Booth's face. His eyes were still squeezed shut. He still seemed to be muttering to himself as his head bobbed slightly, almost as if he were trying to count something. Suddenly realizing what unique situation they were in, the evil part of Brennan screamed at her that she couldn't _not_ to take advantage of the opportunity. She had to, she just _had _to at least play with Booth… even if it was just a _little _bit. If Brennan had any qualms about torturing her partner, they quickly disappeared when a small movement caught her attention, and Brennan suddenly felt herself flush at her realization of what had finally happened. _Well, that certainly took long enough_, Brennan admitted to herself, a bit of relief finally flowing through her. _I was beginning to think that he was impervious to my close proximity and the tactile stimulation he experienced as I removed his clothing. Physiologically, any male should have been responsive to such stimuli, to say nothing of the more personal issue that I thought Booth would have reacted to the fact that it was me who was stimulating him in such a way much, much sooner-_

And, then, without thinking, Brennan suddenly opened her mouth and the question popped out before she had even realized she'd asked it.

"Booth?"

His body flinched at the word as soon as Brennan spoke. _Oh, please God. Don't tell me she needs the boxers, too. Please leave me some shred of whatever's left of my dignity. _

"Yeah, Bones?" Booth finally managed to eek out, his voice cracking just a bit - much to his disgust and annoyance.

"I have a question I need to ask you," Brennan said, and it wasn't lost on Booth that, unless he was very much mistaken, Brennan's voice seemed to have found the half-octave that Booth's had lost in the past few minutes.

"Yeah, Bones?" Booth repeated again.

Raising her blue eyes - which Booth knew, he just _knew _were a darker color than their normal appearance - Brennan met Booth's as she exhaled. Booth could feel the warm moisture of her breath hit his stomach, crawling across the skin of his navel in a way that made Booth's own breath catch in his throat. At last, she spoke, never breaking contact with his soft brown eyes.

"Have you often found yourself in this position?"

Whatever question Booth had been expecting, it wasn't that one. He was at a loss at to how to answer the question, not quite sure as to what Brennan meant, and the confusion was clear enough on his face that Brennan quickly amended her query.

"That is to say, I'm not asking if you've been undressed in the lab for the purposes of furnishing evidence for a homicide investigation. But, more directly,... have you often found yourself standing with a female kneeling in a submissive position in front of you?"

The squitiness of her words - asking Booth what he _knew _Brennan was _really_ daring to ask him - and he made no mistakes about it because given this time, place, and situation, it was a dare with her asking him _that _question - it turned Booth on in a way he'd never imagined. She couldn't have aroused him further if she'd used the most vulgar and profane expletives to rephrase the question, and suddenly, Booth knew there was no holy litany he could recite that would help him now.

Realizing there was no choice but to proceed forward, Booth asked, "Before I answer that question, you asking for any particular reason, Bones? Or, it is just general curiosity?"

Seemingly of her body's own volition, and acting without any input from her brain, Brennan's hands came to rest lightly on Booth's hips. Brennan slowly stood up, pressing her body against Booth's as she slid up the length of his torso. Leaning in, as she tilted her head to move to her face close to his ear, and Brennan sensuously whispered. "Both."

She slowly pulled back, and at that moment, the pair realized how their current situation had quickly changed to something very, very different than either one of them had ever anticipated occurring a mere ten minutes before. Heart pounding, Brennan again adjusted her head so that she was leaning in just close enough to Booth's mouth so that he could kiss her if he wanted to - and, thankfully for Brennan - that was _exactly _what Booth did.

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	10. That Time Booth Got Asked That ? Again

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

A/N: I suppose, in a way, this might be considered a sequel to Vignette/Chapter #3 - "That Time Booth Got Asked That Question." It's not necessary to read that to understand this one, but there is a certain resonance if you've read both. I've always wanted to put Max and Hank in a situation to torment Booth, and this seems like the closest - realistically - I'll be able to come to it for a while.

On that note, I still have a few prior suggestions that people have made in the pipe line, but I'm starting to run a bit short. So, if anyone has a bit of dialog they want to toss out in hopes the muse will latch onto it, I'd be grateful. It really doesn't matter what episode it's from or which season, although six is a bit harder to do since I don't have complete transcripts for a lot of those episodes. Sometimes, the best bits of inspiration sometimes come from the less well-known bits of dialog, so don't be afraid to throw something out there to see if I might get the muse to catch it. Thanks in advance.

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><p>Ch 10: That Time Booth Got Asked That Question… Again<p>

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><p>Although he wasn't able to concentrate fully on his grandfather, as he focused on driving the black SUV down on the road, Booth was doing his best to give Hank Booth as much attention as he could spare while operating the motor vehicle. Smiling, Booth said, "I'm glad you're here, Pops."<p>

Hank nodded at his grandson and said, "Yeah, well...so am I. But, don't worry...if you ever need a little privacy with the bone doctor, I'll make myself scarce."

At this, Booth chuckled. "Okay, thanks, Pops. But, there's nothing going on between us."

Sensing his grandfather's gaze weighing on him, Booth managed to steal a look quickly at the passenger's side of the SUV. Booth almost wished he hadn't when saw a very nervous look on his grandfather's face, soon to be accompanied by two simple words. Booth knew what was coming next, even as Hank opened his mouth to speak, and Booth had an eerie sense of déjà vu settle over him.

"You gay?"

Booth sighed in exasperation. Quickly, he glanced at his grandfather's eyes again and shook his head in several rapid movements.

"No!" Booth returned his eyes to the road and then said, "Why does everyone keep asking me that?"

"What do you mean 'why does everyone keep asking you that', Shrimp?" Hank asked, his own forehead furrowing in suspicious contemplation.

Booth waved his grandfather off. "It's nothing-"

"Seeley," Hank almost growled.

Recognizing the tone for what it was, Booth sighed and reluctantly answered. "It just that not so long ago, I was having a very similar conversation with Bones' father, and he asked me the same question you just did."

"Wait," Hank said. "You're not gay, but you were talking to the bone doctor's father, and, yet, you're still telling me that there's nothing going on between you two?"

"Yes," Booth said, as he turned on the SUV's signal. "That's what I'm telling you exactly."

"Boy," Hank said, shaking his head in disbelief. "I must not have raised you right. I guess I screwed up somewhere along the way."

"Pops," Booth immediately replied. "Now, you know that's not true. Why would you go and say something stupid like that? You know I think the world of you, and you did a great job with Jared and me-"

"Apparently, not a good enough job if you haven't locked a lady like Temperance down yet, Seeley," Hank said. He stopped and then said, "Wait. Why did her father ask you if you were gay?"

"Because," Booth said, turning red a bit as he bit his lip before he muttered. "Max asked me if I was sleeping with his daughter, and I told him no. Then, he asked me the same question you just did."

"And, what'd he say when you told him you weren't gay?" Hank inquired.

"He asked me if Bones wasn't my type," Booth admitted.

Nodding, Hank said, "And, you told him…?"

Sighing again, Booth reluctantly replied, "I told him that I thought Bones is beautiful. She's gorgeous, and she's smart and funny and very much my type, but we're just not like that because we're partners."

"And, he actually bought that load of crap?" Hank asked curiously.

Shaking his head, as he maneuvered the SUV, Booth replied wearily, "Nope. Not really."

"And, if the bone lady's father didn't buy it, why you still trying to pedal that load of garbage to me, Shrimp?" Hank asked.

"Because, Pops," Booth sighed. "It's the truth."

"No, no it's not," Hank corrected Booth. Turning in his seat so that he fully faced his grandson, Hank then promptly jabbed his finger into Booth's arm.

"What?" Booth said. "Hey, Pops! Owww, that hurt."

"Stop being such a big baby," Hank said. "Now, listen up, Seeley. Here's what we're going to do."

Booth arched an eyebrow as he looked at his grandfather, but remained silent.

"We're going to take a little detour, you and I. Right now," Hank began.

Shaking his head again, Booth stupidly interrupted his grandfather, "Look, Pops, I don't think that's a good idea. We've got a lot to do-"

"Stuff it, Seeley," Hank muttered. "Now, like I was saying, Shrimp- you and I are going to take a little detour."

"Where?" Booth sighed.

"To wherever the bones lady is right now," Hank said with a firm nod of his head. "And, we're not leaving until you do the right thing, man up, and kiss her senseless."

Incredulity clear on his face, Booth said, "I'm not doing that."

"Yes, yes, you are, Seeley," Hank said. Shaking his head, he then added, "I'm too old to see you waste anymore time, Shrimp. So, since it's clear you can't close this deal yourself, I'm gonna help you do what should have been done a long time ago. Understand?"

Slowly, Booth turned his head so that he was looking at Hank. As he did so, Booth immediately wondered what it was that everyone else seemed to be seem but him and Brennan. _First, Max. Now, Pops? What are we missing here?_ Booth thought. Staring at his grandfather, who was watching him with an expectant look, a bit of a militant gleam in his eyes, Booth wondered, _Maybe he's right. Maybe I just need to kiss her and see what happens_-

Nodding his head slowly, Booth thought about what the best way was to navigate back to the Jeffersonian. Turning on the Sequoia's blinkers, Booth maneuvered the car into another lane and said, "Yes, sir. I understand."

"So, what are we gonna do then?" Hank repeated, just to make sure his dearly loved, but very thick-skulled grandson was on the same page with him.

Meeting his grandfather's gaze, Booth said evenly, "We're going to go to the Jeffersonian, and I'm going to kiss, Bones. That's the plan, right?"

His face breaking out into a charming smile of his own, Hank nodded happily, "Damn straight."

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	11. That Time Booth Got Shrinked By a Chef

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 11: That Time Booth Got Shrinked By a Chef<p>

* * *

><p>As the excited buzz of the kitchen filtered over them - although, really, it was more like a dull roar, Booth though - he could only focus on one thing - the terribly wonderful, exciting and nerve wracking, awesome and intimidating thought that had dominated his every waking moment over the past three months. And, the thought that had consumed Booth more than anything? It was possibility that what Booth knew he wanted more than anything else - for Brennan to love him - might even have the merest possibility of, at some point in this world, becoming a reality. The notion startled him a bit, as each new person caused him to reevaluate its potential - Cam, Avalon Harmonia, and now Chef Gordon Wyatt. The last person's opinion, especially, had unsettled him. As Gordon Gordon had quite simply said, it was almost <em>too<em> much. Having experienced the wonder of his relationship with Brennan in his dream world, Booth knew what loving her was like and having her feel the same way about him. He'd spent weeks after he came out of his surreal coma dream trying to make his peace with knowing that love and having lost it. And, for a while, Booth had fooled himself into thinking he had done a pretty good job forgetting it. But, now that so many others were saying the _real _Brennan might feel the same way about him? Well, now, Booth was scared to admit that such a possibility might even exist in _this _world. He didn't know if he could ever make his peace with never having experienced the feel of utter happiness and fulfilled contentment that she made him feel if he started to hope again about the possibilities.

_No, _Booth thought sadly. _It's not possible, it wasn't real, and I can't start that again-_

Returning to his attention to the conversation at hand, Booth looked up at Gordon Gordon and insisted on the only fact that he knew he could to retain his sanity. Sadly shaking his head, Booth told the psychologist-turned-chef, "She doesn't love me." Gordon Gordon returned Booth's intent gaze, but said nothing in response. Knowing that Gordon Gordon wasn't going to concede to him in this - because, well, Gordon Gordon never had, and never would - Booth reluctantly caved... just a bit. With a weary sigh, he opened the lid to his own proverbial Pandora's Box as he then amended slightly, "I would _know_ if she loved me."

Knowing he had pushed Booth as far as he could, Gordon Gordon nodded and said, "May I counsel patience on this front." He leveled his gaze at Booth to make certain the FBI agent understood what he was saying. "Hope… and patience."

Smiling slightly, Booth nodded, almost imperceptibly as Gordon Gordon approved of his assessment. _Maybe it's not a Pandora's Box, after all_, Booth thought. Realizing he had had about all the true gut-wrenching emotional admissions that he could stomach in that moment, shifting his mood, Booth said cheerfully, "Right so, about my marksmanship certification – any advice?"

However, the chef-turned-psychologist would not be cowed. At Booth's query, Gordon Gordon became even more firm in his tone as he vigorously replied a response that let Booth know he wasn't ready to let the prior topic of their discussion go- even if Booth was. "Grow a set! Be a man, step up!" Booth stared at Gordon Gordon in disbelief. Shaking his head, Gordon Gordon took a more rational approach. "She's your partner, for heaven's sake. The job you do together is highly dangerous. She counts on you for protection." At this, he looked at Booth, hoping the FBI agent understood what he was trying to tell him without being _too _obvious. Sighing, Gordon Gordon knew subtle wasn't going to work with Booth. Quite bluntly, he said, "So, you'd damn well better protect her!"

At last, Booth managed to reply. "So, that's your big psychiatric advice-just "grow a set"?

Gordon Gordon smiled, at last hoping that Booth had grasped the fundamental truth he hoped to impart to his former patient. "Indeed." Booth tilted his head at Gordon Gordon's words, and added wryly, "When it comes to a man and his gun, a woman is the natural cure. Take Dr Brennan to this, um, this shooting event of yours." He paused, and then said quite confidently, "You won't fail in front of _her_, trust me."

Booth shrugged his shoulders as he laughed slightly and said, "So, let me get this straight, Gordon Gordon. You think my issues on the gun range are curable if I've got a reason to make it count… because I won't have any problems… umm... shooting my gun, if Bones is around?"

"Precisely," Gordon Gordon said. "I couldn't have said it better myself."

"Now, you know how I feel about all this psychology crap, but I gotta ask… isn't that a bit too Freudian to be a coincidence?" Booth asked.

Considering his words, Gordon nodded after a moment. "As I think I've said before, and as I'm sure to say again, Freud has largely be discredited in many arenas of current psychiatric and psychological theory. But, some images are just too iconic and pervasive to be so easily dismissed."

Shaking his head, Booth still didn't seem to be accepting of the backhanded analogy that Gordon Gordon had attributed as the root cause of his marksmanship issues. "I understand what you're saying, but I- I just don't think that it's really that simple, Gordon Gordon. I mean, it's not like I've been feeling…well, you know-not… well, err, manly because of anything to do with Bones."

Sighing, Gordon Gordon said, "I have quite a lot to do before the dinner rush, so let's cut to the chase, shall we, Agent Booth? You're in love with Dr. Brennan. I think we can both agree that we've established that much, at the very least. So, let's go a step further shall we? Because you can't demonstrate your love for her, and fear doing harm to your professional partnership and personal friendship by attempting to clarify where you stand with her - an issue that has been at the root of your interpersonal issues with Dr. Brennan before, I might remind you - you feel impotent."

"Whoa!" Booth said. "Impotent? Who said anything about anyone being impotent?"

"I believe I just did," Gordon Gordon said dryly.

"I'm _not_ impotent," Booth intoned. "I'm _not_."

"As you say," Gordon Gordon said with a shrug.

"Well, I do," Booth said. "I _do _say, and just so there's no confusion, I'll say it again. I'm _not_ impotent."

Suddenly, Gordon Gordon shook his head emphatically. "Fine. Then, don't wait for tomorrow."

"Uh, what?" Booth said.

"If you're not impotent, and you're just as much of a manly man as you claim to be, then go find Dr. Brennan, right now. Go find her, and shag her senseless. You'll do right on the range in the morning if you follow either of my suggestions. But, really, Agent Booth, in either case, you _must _make a decision and do what you want to do. There's no other way to live, really. If there's one thing leaving the FBI taught me, a person must do what they need to do to be happy."

Caught off guard by the psychologist-turned chef's slight rant, Booth warily offered, "And, you think… uh, me and Bones… umm-"

"Shagging?" Gordon Gordon supplied.

Booth nodded. "Uh, you think that would make me happy?"

"You, Dr. Brennan, me, half the staff of the Medico-Legal Lab at the Jeffersonian and the J. Edgar Hoover Building," Gordon Gordon mused. He paused for a minute, and then smiled as he said, "So, what say you, Agent Booth? Are you ready to finally grow a set... or what?"

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	12. That Time B&B Tricked & Both Got Treated

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

A/N: By special request, in honor of the impending Sahmain celebrations (that's Halloween to those who are unfamiliar with Celtic-squint speak), here's a bit of holiday fun B&B style. Also, for those who've been wondering, I should be returning to my normal posting schedule for some of my regular stories at some point this week. But, in the mean time, the first two chapters of my co-authored piece with dharmamonkey - "Cognitive Dissonance" (sequel to "Costly Signals") have been published under her profile. If that's your sorta thing, don't forget to go check it out and let me/us know what you think. As for everyone else, happy hauntings!

* * *

><p>Ch 12: That Time Booth Tricked &amp; Brennan Got Treated<p>

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><p>While it was true that it had only been a flesh wound, the ache in Booth's foot seemed to be growing a bit stronger the longer he continued sitting next to Brennan. The pain meds the EMTs had given him had dulled the pain after they had stitched up his foot at the crime scene, but the slight throbbing seemed to warn Booth that the meds were now in the first stages of wearing off. He had nixed the idea of allowing the EMTs to take him to the ER earlier, and he'd simply promised to follow up with his own GP. After all, the ER was the <em>last <em>place he wanted to be tonight. It was Halloween, after all, and Booth knew that the ER on Halloween was like a full moon to the power of one hundred - everyone and their cousin had some weird excuse to go to the there and chaos ensued. It was something that Booth wanted to avoid, particularly as it would've meant that Booth would've had to leave Brennan alone, by herself, dressed as Wonder Woman if he took the ambulance to the hospital. And, so, since there was no way in hell _that _was going to happen, Booth had promised to follow up with his own doctor, Brennan had vouched for him, he'd signed some paperwork releasing them from liability, and off to the Jeffersonian they'd returned. Until he could get in to see his own doctor, Booth knew he was on his own as far as changing the dressings and the pain meds went. The last part bothered him the least, because, the more Booth thought about it, the more he decided a lack of morphine-based pain meds wasn't necessarily a bad thing.

_I hate Vicodin_, Booth thought suddenly. _It's worse than getting drunk on whiskey, scotch, and tequila combined. It's just like codeine. I take one dose of that crap, and upholstered furniture always seems to hold some new and miraculous power of mind control over me. Nope. Not doing that tonight. Just not gonna._

Suddenly realizing that Brennan had started talking to him, Booth knew that a proper response was needed, particularly after her rather touching apology for the unpleasantness the job had called for tonight in how he'd dealt with the slimeball of a murdering douchbag suspect.

"We saved the girl," he said with a genuinely pleased nod. "That's a pretty good date," Booth added for some random reason.

Brennan, her eyes even more blue than usual, set against the backdrop of the red of her Wonder Woman bustier and smudged black eye makeup, gave him a thoughtful look for a few seconds. Then, she corrected him gently, but deliberately, "Except not really a date."

_Can't argue that one, Bones_, Booth thought wryly. _After all, if I picked you up for a date dressed like that, the very last thing we'd be doing right now would be coming back to the lab. We'd either be at your place or mine, and you'd be showing me how 'wonderful' you actually are *out* of that costume. _Quickly pushing away the rather cocky and self-assured voice, with a silent reminder that this was his _partner_, Booth nodded at Brennan as he said, "I know. It was..."

"-work," Brennan finished for him, just a bit too quickly in Booth's opinion. She then added, as if she needed to make certain that there was absolutely no room for any misinterpretation, "Not a date."

"Right," Booth agreed. "Not a date. Just work. A work date. A really, really hard one."

Brennan seemed to relax a bit at his agreement and descriptions, and then added, a bit of tentativeness coming into her voice, "And, we're not really Wonder Woman and Clark Kent. We're Brennan and Booth."

Looking at her, Booth held Brennan's gaze for a minute. _What's going on in that beautiful brain of yours, Bones? What does it matter who we are tonight? It's not like anything's any different tonight just because it's Halloween, and we're dressed up in costumes, or-_ Booth stopped himself for a minute. He looked at Brennan again, searching her eyes, wondering if she was trying to tell him something or not. _-or, does it? Does it matter, after all? Maybe? Just maybe?_

"Ya know," Booth began, careful not to use his nickname for her. "One of the great things about Halloween is the fact that for a few hours each year, you get to dress up and be someone else."

Tilting her head at him, Brennan said carefully, "That much is true. While the holiday has been somewhat commercialized by various companies with the goal of selling candy and decorations, the tradition of dressing up in costumes on Halloween goes back to a group of immigrants who came from Ireland to the United States in the 1840s as they fled the horrors of the so-called Potato Famine. The idea was that you could avoid encountering evil souls and ghosts on the one day of the year when the veils between the world of the living and the world of the dead was at its thinnest and allowed some type of back and forth exchange. If you disguised yourself, it was thought that you had a certain amount of protection until Samhain was over. Much as they used pumpkins in America, in lieu of carving squash or rutabagas to make jack-o-lantern's to protect their souls from being snatched from the Devil, the custom has been adapted by Americans into the more festive one we're more familiar with today."

"Did you like carving pumpkins when you were a kid?" Booth suddenly asked.

Straightening up a bit, Brennan smiled and said, "As an Amazonian princess, we didn't celebrate American holidays like Halloween on Themyscira."

"Ahh," Booth said. He tilted his head a bit and grinned at her as he said, "So, uhh, what happened to 'we're not really Wonder Woman and Clark Kent', huh?"

Her straight posture disappearing as Brennan slouched a bit, she replied, "Given the fact that Halloween still has-" Brennan glanced over at the clock on the far wall of the lab to see what time it was before she continued speaking. "-approximately two hours and twelve minutes remaining, I now find myself of the opinion that, in the spirit of the festivities, particularly since we've missed the Jeffersonian costume party, it would be only fair to retain our alter egos until midnight."

"Ahhh," Booth said with a slight nod. "So, if this means that you're Wonder Woman-"

"Yes," Brennan said with a happy nod.

"And, I'm Clark Kent-"

Again, Brennan nodded as she said, "If you prefer that identity to your more non-descript costumed role as a random squint, I find that acceptable."

"Good," Booth laughed. "I'm glad you think so, because, if I'm Clark Kent, ya know, it's only fair that you know that, as Clark Kent, I've got some pretty irresistible and amazing powers."

Shaking her head, Brennan said, "No. Even though I don't know a tremendous amount of information about the comic book mythos, I do know that Clark Kent is Superman's human identity. All of his special powers only manifest themselves when he's Superman, not Clark Kent-"

And, for some reason, at that particular moment, although Booth wasn't quite sure why, the Line that had separated them for the past year - ever since it's creation and imposition on them by Booth after his relationship with Cam had imploded because of his fearful reactionism in the wake of the Howard Eppes' - it seemed to blink out of existence for just a few blissful seconds. Maybe it was the fact that she was dressed as Wonder Woman, maybe it was the fact that he was dressed as a squint, maybe it was the fact that it had been a rather stressful night, and he needed to vent some steam, or maybe, just maybe it was something else, but suddenly Booth looked over at Brennan and made a decision. He wondered for a brief second if he'd be able to blame it on the pain meds if she did something like slug him. But, Brennan was smiling at him as she finished her sentence about Clark Kent not being able to display Superman's special powers without compromising his secret identity when Booth leaned over, having committed himself to the plain, consequences be damned. Quickly, but very gently, Booth suddenly kissed her.

Brennan tensed for a minute, her body growing stiff for a few seconds, but then her reaction was cut off by the press of Booth's soft and warm lips to her own. At first, the kiss was gentle and almost chaste. There was no opening of the mouths, no exchange of bodily fluids, and no dueling of the tongues. It was almost, really, no more than Booth pressing his lips against hers, and for some reason, that made Brennan feel very sad, cheated almost. And, then, a part of Brennan's mind perked up and said, _Well, if you want to make it less chaste, Wonder Woman, than you should know what to do, right_?

And, so it was actually Brennan who leaned into Booth. She was the first to wrap her arms around his neck, drawing him closer, exerting more force, more pressure against his lips. Intertwining her fingers at the base of his skull, Brennan held him to her, eager for his kiss. She was the one who opened her mouth first, and she was the one who tentatively let her tongue dart out just a bit in a exercise of exploration - or reconnaissance depending on one's perspective. Pressing lightly against his closed mouth, Brennan's tongue almost seemed to be knocking, begging for entrance. And, as if it had given the magic password, after a few seconds of reluctance, Booth slowly opened his mouth and met her tongue with his own. Their tongues, quite happy at being reintroduced to each other after such a long absence, very quickly fell into the easy rapport they had briefly known for one night such a long, long time ago. As the kiss deepened, and both Brennan and Booth felt their heart rates increase as they enjoyed the rush of passionate warmth that enveloped them, neither one wanted the kiss to end. But, eventually, the need to replenish the air that had disappeared from their lungs demanded their attention. It was with a heavy reluctance that they eventually pulled a part.

Leaning back from one another just slightly, both were a bit worried in that moment what they might see in the other's eyes in their post-Halloween kiss world. But, as Brennan's bright blue eyes danced with merriment, and Booth's brown eyes seemed lightened by the excitement of their kiss, each knew instantly that neither one had anything to worry about.

After taking the requisite number of breaths needed to replenish their air supply, it was Brennan's turn to lean in and resume kissing Booth. As their kisses lightened her head to the point that Brennan believed her ability to analyze things rationally had been, quite happily compromised, she let one final thought flash through her mind.

_Wow! Maybe he does have some special super powers, after all-_

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	13. That Time Brennan Called Booth on It

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 13: That Time Brennan Called Booth on It<p>

* * *

><p>Her pulse was racing and her heart was pounding. <em>He<em> was here. _They_ were here… _finally_—on the same page at the same time. _He_ was ready. _She_ was ready. _They_ were ready.

Tilting her head, she looked over at him with a smile. Brennan had already tried to set the scene, so to speak, to tell Booth what she really wanted to say to him—to let him know what she'd been thinking for months. However, it wasn't coming out very well when he was this upbeat, this…playful. Making a lame joke about still being able to take care of herself when Booth wasn't there to do it for her was the closest the Brennan could come to starting to make her confession.

It was awkward for a few seconds, as they tried to see if the rapport was still there. After all, seven months was a long time to be separated from people you cared about… people—or the person—who you loved.

_I was foolish to think that I'd ever be able to return and nothing would've changed. In some ways, yes, it's true… one revolution around the sun is such a short period of time. In some ways, time went by very, very fast, _Brennan thought. _But, on the other hand, in some ways, I don't think I could've lied a bigger lie. In some ways, it was such a long, long time. And, how glad…how very glad I am that Caroline called us all back here… early. Five months early. I've received a reprieve_—_a stay of execution, so to speak. And, I don't intend to waste it this time, Booth. Never again._

Now that the euphoria of seeing Booth had lessened, and she was less distracted by having reaffirmed her decision, Brennan noticed that _something _was off with Booth. It was subtle, very faint… but it was there. Now that Brennan had noticed it, she couldn't believe that she had ever missed it, even though she and Booth had only been sitting chatting like the two old friends they were for a few minutes.

_Friends_, she thought wryly. _Well, thank God that I won't have to use that highly inaccurate term to describe my relationship with Booth anymore after tonight. Just a few more minutes_—_maybe after I find out why he's acting so strange… so casual?_

Feeling that her plan was a good one, Brennan opened her mouth to take a breath and speak. However, she was suddenly interrupted when Booth's grin transitioned as he too chose that exact moment to ask a question himself.

"Aww… Bones!" Booth paused, still smiling at her. His voice, which Booth was struggling to keep casual and light, then asked the question that broached the topic Brennan had planned to bring up in fairly short order anyway. "So, did you meet anyone special?"

Narrowing her eyes in suspicion and worry, Brennan didn't know whether to feel ecstatic or dread. _Is he asking me because he's worried that I found someone else to replace him while I was gone? I mean, even if he doesn't know it, it's not like I've had sex in almost a year, anyway… so what was another seven months? Maybe—maybe he's afraid I found someone to engage in a casual sexual relationship with while we were separated?_

Needing to clarify the point, so that she could quickly reassure him, Brennan asked, "You mean, did I have sex with anyone?"

Booth held her gaze again, and then chuckled. It was a fake chuckle, tinny and brittle—not at all like his normal warm and genuine laugh. "I missed that about you, you know? You just cut right to the chase..." He let his voice trail off before he confirmed the answer to her question with a slight nod. "Yeah."

Suddenly, something twisted in the pit of Brennan's stomach. _Why is he doing this? Booth only states the obvious when he's nervous. What's he got to be nervous about? God, he does think I've replaced him, doesn't he? Does he think that's why I didn't try to contact him since that day at the airport? God, Booth. I tried. I wrote 38 different letters to you and tore up every single one. I drafted 87 emails… one every other day I was in Maluku… but I never sent them_—_just wrote them and hit delete. I tried to call you once a month—seven times in all—but each time, I never had the courage to hit the final number. How could you ever think that I could replace you? You mean more to me than that_—_so much more._

Nodding, Brennan decided in that moment, she wouldn't let another second pass without telling him. But, first—first she would reassure him. There was no reason to fear on his part. She hadn't replaced him—she never _would_, she never _could_.

Tentatively, Brennan began, "I was working…."

Booth nodded his head as he looked over at her and gave a very vague response. "Hmm…."

Feeling her resolve strengthen, Brennan continued in her efforts to put Booth at ease. "So, there was no time or inclination for sex or… romance."

She nodded at him, smiling. _There, I've done it. Now, he knows. He's the only one. _But, as Brennan looked up, instead of seeing the wave of relief and happiness that she expected her words to bring Booth, instead, she saw a look that made her stomach clench in physical pain. When she looked in his eyes, she didn't see relief, or happiness, or anything, but… no, there was nothing there. Suddenly, he was closed off to her. She couldn't... it just... there wasn't anything there for her anymore when she looked into his eyes. _I can't… why can't I read you anymore, Booth? What's happened? _Brennan thought, suddenly panicked. _I… why can't I understand what you're feeling anymore? I don't understand_—_oh, God. No. I… No… Please. *No*._

But, the question had to be asked… it had to, as Brennan felt the capability to breathe now a very difficult thing to maintain as she managed to choke out the question that would either liberate her heart to the metaphoric, awe-inspiring heights of the romantic heavens or bury it forever beneath the depths of broken promises, dashed hopes, and lost dreams.. "How… about you?

And, then, there it was: a slow nod, a faint smile, an expectant look in his brown eyes—and one that had _nothing _to do with her. And, in that second, Brennan's world cracked into a thousand pieces.

"Yeah… I'll show you. Hannah. She's a journalist, war correspondent."

As Booth reached for his phone, Brennan suddenly felt a wave of panic wash over her. She scrambled to her feet and backpedaled away from Booth, as if he were a poisonous leper.

"No—" Brennan called out, her single utterance rich with the pain she now felt.

Booth's head snapped up at her movements and the single word. For a split second, Brennan thought she saw the flicker of something familiar in his eyes, but then it was gone as soon as it appeared. Titling his head casually at her, Booth asked, "Bones?"

Shaking her head, Brennan backed away again. "Put it away."

"What?"

"The phone," Brennan breathed, as if each word were painful for her to speak. "The damn phone, Booth. I don't want to see it."

"But, I want to show you—"

"No!" Brennan muttered again. "No… I don't want—"

"But, Hannah—"

"NO!" Brennan said, unable to help herself as such a strong and emotional outburst. She felt as if she were flailing, spinning out of control. Down was up, up was down, right was left, and left was right. In the span of a few seconds, suddenly her world didn't make any sense any more, and Brennan didn't know what to do.

Tensing, she shook her head as she pointed at Booth. "This is _not_ how this was supposed to go."

Carefully, calmly, in an even voice that Brennan recognized as the one that Booth often employed to calm crazed suspects, he looked up at her and asked, "Not how what was supposed to go, Bones?"

Gesturing with her arm, back and forth at the space between them, Brennan said, "Tonight. You. Me. Us. This is not how it was supposed to go, not how it was supposed to turn out." She paused, suddenly not realizing that tears had started to prick the corner of her eyes. "I didn't come here tonight to hear that you… replaced me, Booth." She shook her head firmly and said, "I came here tonight to tell you the truth."

"What truth, Bones?"

"That… I love you," Brennan said. She hastily brought the back of her hand to wipe away the tears that had started to run down her cheek as she sniffled. Shaking her head, as she tried to clear her vision, she didn't process the fact that Booth had a look on his face of his own as the facade that had been in place since they'd hugged earlier was now cracked, too.

"Bones—"

Slowly standing up, raw emotion clearly evident on his face, Booth tried to reach out for her, but Brennan quickly stumbled away from his touch.

"No!" Brennan said again. "I… this is not how this was supposed to be… not how it was supposed to go. I came here tonight to tell you that I love you and to apologize for what happened before we left and to see what would happen after all of that… but, if you've found someone else… if you've replaced me… then I-I… none of that matters anymore…. _I _don't matter anymore."

"Bones—" Booth repeated.

"No!" Brennan said, suddenly feeling the panic overwhelm her. "This was a mistake. I never should've come here… and I can't do this anymore."

And, spinning on her heels, Brennan turned away from Booth and ran as fast and as far away from him as her feet could carry her.

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	14. That Time Brennan Had One More Drink

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 14: That Time Brennan Had One More Drink<p>

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><p>The night, despite all the happy things to celebrate, seemed to be ending on a sour note. Brennan wasn't happy. It wasn't a lack of sleep that fueled her negative outlook, although it would be perfectly logical to expect such a consequence of the arduous demands Heather Taffet's trial had placed on the entire team. No, she wasn't sleepy or tired, per se—but, she was fatigued. She was worn out, drained, and in general, not capable of putting up much of a fight anymore. She didn't know when it had happened—if there was a single point to which she could refer as the crucial bit of evidence in her transition from an unattached, extremely intelligent and rational woman who always knew that she could rely on herself to do what needed to be done to someone else. She had seem to become another woman entirely who wasn't any of those things anymore. She just simply—well, she wasn't.<p>

_I don't know when I became this weak person_, Brennan thought morosely._ Maybe there wasn't just a single event that I can identify as the point when I crossed some proverbial line of no return. Maybe things have been more inconspicuous, a part of a larger change over time, that's resulted from some subtle process that I was unaware was even changing me. But, whatever the circumstances under which my transformation has occurred, I know that I'm not the same person who I used to be. How did this happen? How_—

Brennan's thoughts trailed off as she refocused on the worried look of her partner's face, who watched her very carefully with his warm brown eyes full of concern. When Booth continued to insist that it was an evening for joy and happiness—because of the news of the prosecution's victory over Taffet and the revelation about Hodgins' marriage to Angela—Brennan still remained hesitant to concede his point. For a few seconds, as Brennan stared at him, and she remembered the day that Taffet had almost taken him from her. She thought—and not for the first, fifth, or even hundredth time—how horribly things could've gone if she'd only been a few minutes later that day that Taffet had kidnapped Booth, entombed him in the decommissioned naval vessel, and left him never to be found again.

"You almost died, Booth," Brennan said, some of the passionate pain she kept tightly coiled inside her creeping into her voice despite her best effort to hide it. Biting her lip, Brennan insisted, "That can happen again."

Booth stared at Brennan for a moment, but he remained quiet. He knew that Brennan was hiding something, but he didn't want to push too hard if she'd willing tell him herself.

A beat of time passed, and then, as Brennan spoke, there it finally was.

"What if, next time, I can't get to you?"

_It's not your fault_, Booth wanted to tell her. Now that the blinders had been removed, he could see the fear and guilt eating at Brennan, despite her best efforts to hide it. _You aren't responsible for what she did to me, Bones. Why… why are you trying to take the blame? It's wasn't your fault, not at all_—

Instead, all Booth could really tell Brennan was a firm reassurance that her fears were unfounded. "It's not going to happen again," he told her confidently.

Looking at Booth, Brennan felt the familiar knot of fear tighten in her stomach. _I almost lost you that day. Taffet never would've taken you if it hadn't of been for your connection to me, Booth. That time—*that* time I got lucky. What happens the *next* time something happens? What happens the next time something bad happens to you because of me? And, more importantly, what happens when that something bad happens, and because I'm different_—_perhaps changed even more then than I am now, because I have no way to know if the process that's changed me has or will stop at any point in the near future_—_what happens then? You'll get hurt or die or leave me, and then what will happen, Booth? How will I be able to deal with things when I'm this weak and useless individual who's all by herself again? I can't do that_—_I can't take the chance. I can't take that rick for both our sake's_—_both for your and for mine_—

"I envy your ability to substitute optimism for reality," Brennan finally managed to say to Booth in response to his earlier optimistic comments.

Knowing that he was quickly losing a critical battle with Brennan, Booth suddenly switched tactics. Instead of a blatant approach, one that tried to show her that she was wrong because she wasn't thinking about the whole thing from the right way, Booth hoped a more subtle suggestion might work to enable Brennan to come to the same conclusion herself.

"You know what? Maybe you just need to take some time off," Booth said with a jovial nod. "Go to a beach. Lay in the sun—" he continued happily to embroider the picturesque tale. He hope mental images of the warm sun and clear blue waters and ocean breeze might tempt her and perhaps spark some that might appeal to the exhaustion he sensed in Brennan. _Come on, Bones. Say 'yes', and I'll have us on the first plane to whatever Caribbean island you want. Name it. You, me, your bikini, my swim trunks, some sun screen, and a bottle of tequila to make all the bad things go away for a while. What'd ya say? Just give me something—please, Bones. Work with me here. Just give me something to work with, _Booth mentally pleaded. However, when he saw the look on her face, he knew his idea was falling on deaf ears. _She's making a decision about something_, Booth suddenly realized. _She's making a choice about something, right now. And, she's making the choice because she's scared. She's making up her mind to do what she always does when she gets scared, and_—_oh, God. She's going to run again, isn't she?_

Booth felt his heart fall into his stomach as Brennan's next words seemed to ominously confirm his fears.

"I might need more than a little time," Brennan told him slowly, in a measured tone that belied the seriousness of what her words insinuated.

Shaking his head, Booth went on the defensive, trying to implement his standard protocol for damage control where Brennan was concerned. "Don't... don't make any decisions about your future right now," he advised her, his voice stumbling over the first few words as he said only what he could say, but not everything he needed to tell her.

"I'm just saying—" Brennan began, about to defend the choice she realized she had just made in that moment, as she knew that the only way she could really let Booth go and not self-destruct in the process was to try to rediscover the woman she'd once been—the woman she'd been before she'd ever met him and nicknamed her 'Bones'.

Her tone making Booth even more resolute in his efforts to proactively counter Brennan's impending flight, Booth interrupted her, as he said with firm wave of his hands, "You know when a dentist gives you anesthetic and tells you not to operate any heavy machinery or make any important decisions within 24 hours?"

Brennan stared at him for a minute, and then she slowly nodded.

Booth, feeling a small shred of hope at her tacit agreement, continued. "Alright, this case was bigger than a root canal—" Then, in a flash of inspired brilliance, Booth knew the best way to counteract Brennan was to turn off her brain. _And, the best way to turn off Bones' brain is... alcohol,_ Booth thought, his brain jumping back to another time and place five years distant when he had used alcohol as a crutch that night to help him in getting her to do something that he didn't really want to do in firing her."Come on, let's just go back inside and have one more drink."

Staring at him, quite tempted, Brennan seemed to be at war with herself. _If I go back inside with him, he'll find out what choice I've made and then try to change my mind_, Brennan told herself. _So, __I should just go home. Right now, the logical course of action—the safe thing to do— is to say goodnight, hail a cab, and go home_—_away from him...away from Booth. Because, if I stay, I don't know what might happen tonight... what Booth might be able to get me to do if he really tries—  
><em>

"Come on," Booth tempted her again, shooting her a smile that he knew usually melted her resolve. "Just one." He reached out, unable to help himself as he grabbed her hand and lightly pulled her back towards the bar.

Brennan felt a small static charge shock her at Booth's touch, and she stopped, caught off guard by the sensation. "You just shocked me," Brennan said in disbelief.

"Whatever I have to do, Bones," Booth said, not letting her hand go, although there was clearly an amused tone lurking just at the edge of his voice. "Come on, now. One more drink, huh?"

"I really shouldn't," Brennan began to protest again. "I—"

Tightening his hold on her hand, Booth squeezed it and said, "Please?" Holding her hand tightly in his grasp, his dark brown eyes beseeching her, Booth asked, "Please? Don't go. Not yet. Everyone else is gone, so, please. Don't leave me—don't leave me all by myself, huh?"

Those specific words hit a particularly vulnerable spot in Brennan's emotional armor. _'Don't leave me,' he_ _asked. That's not fair, Booth. So not fair_— Brennan thought to herself.

"Please, Bones?" he asked again, softening his tone once more, and staring at her expectantly, still not having released her hand.

Brennan, feeling her heart skip a beat, knew in that moment, that her resolve had crumbled. She had lost, and he had won.

"Okay," Brennan said after indulging herself by letting her look into his eyes for a few more seconds. Then, with a light nod, she added, "Okay, I'll stay."

Booth grinned at her again, this time pulling her once more towards the bar's entrance, and Brennan allowed herself to be pulled toward him.

"But, just one drink, Booth," Brennan said, setting the terms of her conditional surrender. "Just one," she repeated, even though both of them knew that she didn't mean it.

"Sure," Booth said, giving her a knowing look. "Just as long as you know that since I'm buying, it's my call _what _we're drinking, Bones."

A mock frown coming over her face, Brennan cringed as she immediately knew what _those _words meant. With Booth, _those _words only meant one thing as she said, "Oh, no, not—"

"Tequila," Booth said with a happy nod at her. "_Definitely_, tequila, Bones."

"Oh, damn—"

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	15. That Time Booth Got Very Good Advice

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 15: That Time Booth Got Very Good Advice<p>

* * *

><p>If there was one thing that Seeley Booth hated, it was feeling unsure of himself. Make a decision, either right or wrong, and deal with the consequences—that had always been his style. But, now? In the last six weeks? Nope. That wasn't him. He hadn't made a single decision of any significance since he'd come out of recovery and found out that Brennan had bolted within forty-eight hours of him waking up. Since he'd been told that she'd left him at a time when he thought they were still married and expecting a child, he'd felt horrible and savagely betrayed. That was the last firm decision he'd made. Ever since he'd woken up and not been able to tell what had been real and what had been a part of his dream— the uncertainty and self-doubt was paralyzing him. Now, reinstated, things were slowly, but surely creeping back towards some state of normalcy—but, for one thing… how he felt every time he looked at her.<p>

Looking over at his old friend, Booth finally couldn't control himself anymore. He needed to know the answer to the question that had been rattling around in his mind for days now. He trusted Camille Saroyan. If she gave him an answer, whatever the answer was, he'd accept it as the truth.

The shot of Jack Daniels still lingered, making it difficult for him to speak for a moment, as the path the fiery liquid had trailed down the back of his throat still had yet to fade. However, if he had been pressed, Booth wondered if Cam's assertion about his feelings for Brennan had also been partially responsible for rendering him speechless.

At last, looking at her with a pleading look in his eyes, Booth asked the question he desperately needed to have answered for him. "What I'm wondering is, am I the same guy?"

Cam narrowed her eyes as she clarified, "A sweet, kick-ass, FBI murder-solver with hard fists and a lion heart?"

"Mmmm," Booth nodded.

"Yeah, you're still him," Cam said simply, smiling as if it was one of the most simple questions in the world to answer. Booth felt a small thread of hope blossom in him at Cam's words as he looked away from her and glanced at his glass on the bar. Cam, seeing her friend as he seemed to be struggling with something, suddenly wondered if she had made the right choice in the call she'd placed before coming here. Flicking her eyes at the wall, she breathed a silent prayer that she hadn't done more harm than good in manipulating this point slightly. Hoping to bolster his confidence, Cam said, "My advice, for what it's worth: forget the bruised brain, and go with your lion heart."

Grabbing his glass, Booth lifted it to Cam's and was about to clink it in a toast as he smiled, "Right, right, yeah, and…uh, tell Bones how I feel."

"Yes," Cam said.

Booth smiled, suddenly feeling as if she had lifted a heavy burden off his shoulders. _Thank you, Camille. Thank you so much…_

But, then Cam pulled her glass award from his mid-toast and pointed at him as she added, "Except, be sure about your feelings because if you crack that shell, and you change your mind, she'll die of loneliness before she'll ever trust anyone ever again."

Staring at her, Booth nodded. "I know that, Camille."

"Then, you're sure?" Cam asked.

Slowly, Booth nodded his head. "About her? About how I feel about her?"

Cam nodded.

"Yeah," Booth replied. "I am."

"How sure?" Cam asked, her eyes darting over to the entryway of the Founding Fathers.

"As certain as I can be, Cam," Booth said, holding her gaze intently. "I love her. With everything I am, with every part of me. I love her."

"Ah," Cam said with a smile, as she downed the last of her drink, reached into her purse and pulled out a few bills, dropped them on the bar, and stood. "Good."

Looking at her strangely, Booth said, "Wait, what…where are you going Camille? I thought we were having a moment here—"

"Nope," Cam chuckled. "At least, you were having a moment. But, I'm a smart enough girl to know that I'm just a placeholder."

"Placeholder?" Booth asked, confusion washing over his face. "What does that mean—"

Cam raised her hand in greeting to someone on the opposite side of the bar as she smiled and gestured for someone to join them. Leaning in she gave Booth a quick peck on the cheek as she said, "So, don't hate me. But, my replacement's here. Last round was on me, and good luck—"

"Wait," Booth said as he suddenly saw a familiar person making her way through the crowd. "Camille," he hissed. "What did you do?"

Smiling, Cam said, "If you love her, tell her, Seeley. Now, right now. Don't waste another minute." She then quickly gave him a thumbs-up sign before quickly disappearing into the crowd, only stopping for a few seconds to say hello to Brennan, make her excuses, and then high tale it out the bar's front door.

"Camille—" Booth called out in protest, standing up a bit too quickly from his bar stool and felt the shot of Jack Daniel's combined with the bourbon he'd been sipping go to his head a bit.

"Booth?" Dr. Temperance Brennan's concerned voice came as he suddenly felt her warm hands supporting him. "Are you okay?"

Looking at her, Booth smiled lamely as he said, "Oh, hey, Bones—"

"I… Dr. Saroyan called and asked that I meet you both here. She said that she was just paged about something at the lab, but indicated that I should stay to speak with you because she'd already 'bought the next round'," Brennan told him, as she guided him back to the stool. Usually the first to protest if someone had coddled him as much as Brennan had appeared to be doing, instead, Booth let himself enjoy the feel of his soft hands on his taut shoulder muscles through the thick fabric of his suit jacket.

Once he was seated, and Brennan had slid onto the stool that Cam had just vacated, as promised, the bartender magically appeared with two shot glasses of amber liquid. Brennan reached for hers after she had pushed Booth's toward him. With a smile, she asked, "So, what's the occasion that necessitates such… what is it called… 'liquid courage'?"

Swallowing once, as Booth watched her with a reverent look in his eyes, Booth softened his tone, reached out and clinked his shot glass to hers. Quickly downing the shot, Booth gently set it on the bar top before he pressed his lips together once, and looking at Brennan, saw she was watching him with expectant eyes as she started to flush as the alcohol hit her system.

Grinning at her, Booth suddenly felt firm in his resolve as he opened his mouth and began to speak. "Uh, yeah, Bones, about that… there's something I sorta need to tell you—"

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	16. That Time Booth & Brennan Bickered

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 16: That Time Booth &amp; Brennan Bickered<p>

* * *

><p>She hated moments like these—moments when Booth clearly toed the line between professional &amp; public and personal &amp; private. He infuriated her when he acted like this, so smug and self-righteous. It was also she could do not to just walk up to him and slap that supercilious and condescending smirk of his face once and for all.<p>

_Just let it go, Brennan_, a calm and rational voice rang inside her head. _Booth is just being_—_well, he's just being Booth. Don't encourage his alpha male tendencies by giving his blatant show of bravado any more credit than it's due. Don't respond to him. Just… let it go._

Unfortunately, as Brennan continued her cursory examination of the remains, another more instinctual part of her was unable to resist the situation, particularly as she thought back to how she had felt Booth's eyes on her during the entire telephone conversation she'd had with David. He'd been watching her—her every move, her every reaction. _Why do you care so much, Booth? _a part of Brennan's mind asked. _You go home to Tessa every night, so what does it matter how I spend my evenings? What does it matter?_

Looking over at him, she stared, noting his defensive posture. "What?" she finally asked.

Quickly shaking his head, Booth quickly dismissed her question. "Nothing."

Rolling her eyes, Brennan sighed. "You disapprove?"

Taking a step or two away from her, Booth shook his head again. "I said great."

Her mouth narrowing in annoyance, Brennan quantified Booth's statement. "With attitude."

At this, Booth's head suddenly shot up as he looked over at his partner. "Don't go overboard with psychology. It's not your thing."

Hating that Booth might put her in a position potentially to defend a soft pseudo-science that she despised, Brennan decided to change the subject and address the issue they both knew they were really talking about, even though neither one of them had really brought it up yet. _Enough_, Brennan thought to herself. _Enough of this prevaricating. _

Sticking her hip out as she assumed a slightly defensive pose, Brennan narrowed her eyes at her partner as she said, "Look, I am an adult Booth. I see men. I go out with them on occasion." She met his eyes as she continued her somewhat inappropriate tirade. As she spoke, the look Brennan saw in the dark brown irises suddenly both enthralled and excited her. She was intrigued not only interest, but—_Jealousy_, Brennan thought with a mental gasp. _He's jealous! But… why? _And, then, quickly, before she could second guess herself, instead of stopping to diffuse the situation, Brennan added with a sly smile, "I sleep with them."

She saw the effect her words had on him in an instant. His tense jaw hardened as his eyes narrowed, and his brown irises grew even darker. Brennan could tell he was at war with himself by how to respond to her taunt, for that was what it was—there was no mistaking her intent with that last statement.

_Enough of this_, Brennan thought to herself again, feeling a flush of empowerment flow through her. Reaching over, she snapped off her nitrile gloves, and Brennan put them away before she walked over to where her partner stood, deliberate and clear in her movements.

"I need to speak to you in private," Brennan said in a tone that was in no way anything less than professional, should anyone have overheard them. "Outside, please?"

She threw the last two words at him as if they were a formal challenge. Brennan knew there would be no way Booth would be able to resist them. Quickly spinning on her heels, Brennan walked in the direction of the warehouse's exit and towards where Booth had parked his SUV. She marched towards her destination with a deliberate purpose, and although she didn't bother to look back once, she knew Booth was following her when she heard his heavy footfall matching hers step for step.

When the pair where finally outside, and afforded a sliver of privacy by standing on the opposite side of the SUV—as if they were getting more equipment out of the vehicle—Brennan slowly turned around and faced Booth. He was standing a bit too casually, leaning against the SUV's door, trying just a bit too hard to appear suave, debonair, and nonchalant—the perfect picture of disinterest. But, Brennan knew better as she continued to feel his intense gaze bore into her very being.

"So, what'dya want, Bones?" Booth said in feigned casualness, finally breaking the silence between them, a silence that was heavy with… well, something, although he wasn't quite sure what.

_What I want is for you to stop this,_ Brennan thought to herself. _If you want me, then say something. Stop this posturing and be deliberate. Do something._

But, in that minute, it was actually Brennan who was finally goaded into action. As soon looked at him, for some reason, rational thought went out the window. Taking two steps towards him, Brennan grabbed him by the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled him closer to her, fisting the material in each hand for better control of the situation—and him.

"Who in the hell do you think you are?" she said through gritted teeth. "My personal life is _none_ of your business."

"It is when you're making stupid mistakes, Bones," Booth growled at her. "You're my partner—"

"Oh, screw that 'partner' bullshit, Booth," Brennan muttered. "We both know this has _nothing _to do with our professional affiliation."

"Really?" Booth said, his voice low and sinister. He could've easily removed himself from Brennan's grasp if he'd wanted to, but instead, he allowed himself to remain in her hold, enjoying the feeling of being so close to her. "Then, what's this really about, Bones?"

"You're jealous," Brennan answered instantly. "You're so jealous you can't stand it."

"Oh, yeah?" Booth said, daring to lick his bottom lip as he never broke his gaze from hers. "And, why do you think that?"

"Because," Brennan said, a throaty laugh escaping from her mouth. "You want me. You want me so badly you can barely stand it. But, you hide behind that partners bullshit instead of doing what you should've done more than a year ago."

"And, what's that exactly, Bones?" Booth dared to ask, his voice so husky that it came out as barely more than a hoarse whisper. "Tell me. What should I have done differently that I didn't do?"

Yanking him towards her, and then using the momentum to throw him against the side of the SUV, Brennan leaned into him, pressing her long body against his in a dangerous caress. Pushing her body up against his, she marveled at the rightness of the sensation for a few seconds before she finally gave Booth a most important answer. "You should've followed me. You should've followed me that night instead of letting me go. You should've followed me, and you should've kissed me—and kept kissing me—until I couldn't think anymore."

"You want to be kissed, Bones?" Booth half-groaned. "Is that what you're saying here? You want to be kissed by _me_?"

As her eyes darted up and down his body, as if to indicate their current position, Brennan said, "What do you think, Booth?"

Slowly, he opened his mouth and said, "I think…if you keep doing what you're doing, you aren't going to make that dumbass dinner date with Mr. Dick431 tonight, Bones."

She smiled at that, a smile of promise and encouragement that made Booth's blood race. "You promise, Booth?"

And, finally, his head snapping up to meet hers in a searing kiss, Booth gave Brennan her answer.

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	17. That Time B Told B to Buy Him Dinner

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

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><p>Ch 17: That Time Booth Told Brennan to Buy Him Dinner<p>

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><p>Although she knew he'd hate it if she admitted it, Brennan knew that the reason Booth made such a big deal about always driving was because he got nervous when he wasn't in control. In most situations, allowing him to drive without making a big deal about it was a small thing. It assuaged his need to assert his alpha male tendencies of dominance. For the most part, Brennan could indulge him with a roll of her eyes and a pointed comment or two allowing her to at least intimate why his insecurities always meant that Booth had to drive. However, as they rode towards the crime scene, Brennan noticed that Booth's bravado was continuing to become more and more pronounced. When he finally all but challenged the validity and necessity of <em>her <em>skills and self worth, in such a blatant way, she found that she couldn't let such insinuations go unanswered.

"I imagine," Brennan began, "I am treated differently than you because I have an indispensable skill."

In reality, what Booth heard was _I'm better than you, people know it, and so I get treated better. Moreover, it's true. So, deal with it, Booth_. His jaw clenching a bit, Booth found it a bitter pill to swallow. _I'm one of the best damn field agents that the FBI has, _Booth reassured himself. _I'm good, people know it, and you're the one who's lucky to be working with me, Bones_—

Instead, all he could manage to mutter with a small shake of his head was, "Indispensable ..." He marveled at Brennan's confidence. Then, quite randomly, a very telling comment popped out of his mouth before Booth realized what he had said. "I do not need you."

Narrowing her eyes, Brennan looked over at her partner in suspicion. She contemplated his words for several sections. _Now, why would you say something like *that*, Booth? _she wondered. In order to buy herself a few more precious seconds of time for analysis of his comment, Brennan fell back on a standard taunt which she knew Booth—hopefully—wouldn't be able to resist.

"Oh, so you can determine the origin of the kerf marks as well as the sex and age of the victim?"

Within two seconds, just as Brennan had anticipated, Booth started to chuckle. His eyes still on the road guiding the rental SUV down the Pacific highway, he finally managed to glance over at her, looking at Brennan over the edge of his dark black sunglasses. "Heh.. You know you're a smart ass, you know that?"

_Point to Brennan_, she thought gleefully, quite pleased with herself that she had been able to anticipate Booth's responses so well as she struggled to make sense of his earlier statement. _'I don't need you.' Now… why would you say something like that, Booth_—_unless…_

And, then, as if she had just had some magical moment when her epiphany came, the true meaning of Booth's words suddenly clicked into place. _Oh, _Brennan thought, slightly surprised with the end result of her analysis. Then, feeling a flush of warmth at the thought, she bit back a smile and could only manage to think, _Oh…._

Feeling quite empowered with her new knowledge, Brennan determined that a bit more fun was in order. Wanting to see just how much she could push her partner, she decided to see how quickly and how much he'd rise to her very specifically targeted verbal bait.

"Objectively, I'd say I'm very smart," she said with a smirk, in a self-righteous tone that she knew drove Booth insane. She then slyly added with a self-satisfied smirk on her face, "Although it has nothing to do with my ass."

Shooting her another look as his head snapped over from where it had been watching the road, the pair made eye contact for several seconds. In those few seconds, Booth tried to figure out why Brennan had just made such a statement. _She doesn't know what she's saying half the time_, Booth thought as the image of her curvy ass blinked in front of him for a minute. He felt his throat grow even more dry as he flushed in appreciation of the image evoked by her words. _Naaw, she doesn't know what she was saying… even if she does have a cute ass._

However, for some strange reason, Booth wasn't quite willing to dismiss the entire double entendre aspect of their latest round of banter. Feeling that her own cocky words demanded some type of like answer, Booth grinned over at her as he said, "You know what? I'll tell you what... you can take me out to dinner. Put me on your tab."

His words made Brennan's heart skip a beat. _Is that your way of asking me out, Booth? Here and now? Finally? Are you actually going to pull the metaphorical trigger and do what we both know what you've wanted to do for more than a year?_

Deciding to test him—and play with him a bit more—Brennan remained stone-faced as she said, "That doesn't seem ethical."

Looking over again, this time letting his sunglasses fall down the edge of his nose just a bit so that Brennan could see his eyes, Booth asked her with a clever look on his eyes and a charming smile on his lips, "You still want that gun now, don't you? Hmmmm?"

Crossing her arms slowly, and luxuriously stretching out her legs in the front seat, Brennan arched her back a bit and then looked over at her partner. Booth's eyes were still on her, and for a few seconds, Brennan wondered how in the hell he was managing to navigate the vehicle without hitting anyone or anything since his eyes seemed to have been glued to her for quite a while now. At last, Brennan lazily grinned and asked, "That depends, Booth."

"On what?" came the immediate retort.

Arching an eyebrow at him, Brennan replied, "On which gun we're talking about here… or, to be more specific, which one you're offering me exactly."

Booth, now knowing there was no way in hell that there could be any mistake about the sexual innuendo in Brennan's voice, felt an uncomfortable tightness somewhere in the vicinity of his groin as he thought about how best to respond. Finally, after a few seconds of silence had lingered between the pair, Booth licked his lips and then said, "I only work with the best, Bones."

"I'm aware of that," Brennan replied silkily. "Or, at least, that you make the best efforts to ensure that you only work with the best." She paused and then said, "But, that still doesn't answer my question now, does it, Booth?"

Suddenly unable to help himself anymore, Booth glanced in the rear view mirror. Seeing there was no traffic behind them, he flipped on the blinkers and began to decelerate as he pulled off on the side of the road. Brennan's heart began to beat faster as the car slowed down, and by the time Booth put it into park, Brennan was aflutter with anticipation and excitement. Hastily unbuckling his seat belt, Booth finally turned around in his seat so that he was fully facing Brennan. Taking off his sunglasses, he tossed them on the SUV's dashboard, and tilted his head at hers, his eyes full of want and the promise of something more if she was smart enough to take him up on his offer.

"Standard issue, Bones," he finally growled, his voice low and rough with desire. "Standard government issue is the best I have to offer." She opened her mouth to say something, but Booth raised a finger to her lips, and the pair felt a crackle of the energy between them as he touched her for the first time. His voice still quiet, he gave a small shake of his head as he added, "But, don't let the regulations fool you. It's quite exceptional in its own way—exceptional and very, very good at what it does. Accurate, deadly accurate in its effectiveness."

Leaning forward a bit, Brennan acted reflexively as her lips curled to kiss the finger that was still lightly placed against her mouth. The simple act was enough to break what little will power that Booth had left—although, it was only a token protest to that point since both of them knew what was going to happen as soon as he had pulled the car over. Reaching for her over the SUV's center console, Booth roughly pulled Brennan to him. As their tongues began to duel in a very sweet but very dangerous dance, there was no more question as to if Brennan would be taking Booth out to dinner that night.

_No,_ the last rational part of Brennan's brain echoed as Booth deepened their kiss and his hands began to snake up and under the hem of her shirt causing her to shiver with delicious expectation. _We're definitely not going out tonight. But_—_I will spring for room service. Whatever he wants_—_it's on me._

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	18. That Time They Both Got Shrinked

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 18: That Time They Both Got Shrinked<p>

* * *

><p>All in all, it had been an exhausting day. And, now, to top it all off, after the many, many hours she had spent dissecting the symbolism of Sully guiding his boat—a boat he had named after <em>her <em>out into the open waters of the wide blue Atlantic—while she watched, only to turn around and find Booth waiting for her wearing that killer smile of his… well, it had been a lot of imagery to deconstruct and dissect. But, Angela had insisted. She had wanted to go over it all, everything. And, go over again. And, finally go over, some more. Personally, Brennan didn't see what the big deal was—Sully had asked, she'd said no, he'd left, she'd stayed. End of story. However, Angela… Angela, well—she seemed unable to let it go. And, the more Brennan thought about it, the more she was unable to decide if Angela was obsessing over the fact that she had let Sully go, or, that Brennan had stayed—and, by inference, the reason _why _Brennan had stayed.

Thus, as she was being confronted by Booth's psychologist—_and he *really* was quite an odd man_, Brennan thought, the more and more she heard him talk. _He's been classically trained, quite obviously_, Brennan thought to herself as she studied the British gentlemen. _And, he's certainly got a turn of words, I'll give him that much. But, I don't understand why Booth thinks he can simply sit down with us for a few short minutes and figure out what the crux of our latest clash is because, obviously—well, there's *something* that's wrong between us and probably has been for a while. At least, I mean_—_I know I can sense some growing tension between us. Things *aren't* the same as they were before_—_now, I don't know if that's because Booth shot a clown, he started therapy, or I've had a somewhat serious romantic relationship. But, whatever the cause is, I don't see how it can be solved by a practitioner of some soft pseudo-science that only a century ago was acknowledged as the purview of charlatans and quacks._

"I knew what your problem was right off the bat, if you'll forgive the cricketing metaphor," Gordon Gordon said, drawing Brennan's attention back to his revealing pronouncement. His inflection slightly annoyed her, as she still couldn't believe the arrogance of the British man. She made a face as she again thought of how neither she, Booth, nor their partnership were some simple experiment to be solved by a mere five minutes of observation. "The meetings were for fun—"

_Wait, _Brennan thought, her mental tirade jarring to a halt at his frivolous words. _Fun? Us? What did he just say? Did he infer that he was… amused by us? _

"Booth never knows where to stand when he's in the lab," Gordon Gordon explained.

Brennan's eyes shot over to her partner, leveling a tacit question in his direction with an arch of her eyebrows. Booth had no response for her besides a slight shrug of his shoulders that seemed to say _maybe he's right_—

"—feels like teats on a bull whenever he's there," Gordon Gordon continued, giving his analysis as if he were making some large announcement and releasing a greatly expected set of results to an eager public.

_Or, perhaps a conference paper, _Brennan mused.

"Ditto, Dr Brennan in the interrogation room," Gordon Gordon said, giving a slight nod in the direction of the forensic anthropologist.

Her brow furrowed at his assessment, but she refused to meet Booth's look of inquiry, much like the one that she had given him not two minutes earlier.

"Simple geography, sense of belonging, et cetera," Gordon Gordon finished, as he glanced at the pair over his cup of coffee.

Not surprisingly, it was Booth who spoke first with a shake of his head in muted protest. "But, that's not the main problem."

Brennan turned to look over at her partner, as she processed his words. She thought about his word choice very, _very _carefully. After a few seconds, she was even more confused than she had been before she analyzed what Booth had just said. _Wait, how can Booth know that that's not the problem, if we don't know what the problem is? Because, I have several possibilities that might be exacerbating the more stressful aspects of our partnership, but even I don't feel comfortable saying for certain what the root cause of our issues are… so, how can Booth even say that, unless_—_unless he knows something I don't?_ Looking at her partner, and not at Gordon Gordon, Brennan said, "He can't possibly know."

Gordon Gordon, watching the silent byplay going on between the partners in what was one of the most exquisite tennis matches he'd ever had the opportunity to witness, was delighted with the effect his words seemed to have on the pair, particularly Brennan. They were reacting in _exactly _the manner he'd anticipated, and it tickled him to no end—especially Brennan's response. _Sometimes the truth is painful, my dear_—_particularly when we aren't ready or willing to face it_, Gordon Gordon thought.

With a gentle, but indulgent, nod, Gordon Gordon decided to put the pair—especially Brennan—out of their misery. But, first he contemplated taking a sip of the diner's coffee. As he sniffed the acrid smell of the pungent roast, he thought better of drinking it, knowing that if he sipped the bitter concoction, it might ruin his palette for the rest of the day. At last, he gave the partners a pointed look as he said, "Yes, I do." He then focused his gaze first on Brennan, making eye contact for several seconds and holding it before he looked over at Booth and did the same thing. "You're both afraid that the reason Dr Brennan didn't sail off into the sunset with her boyfriend Sully might have been because of her ties to Agent Booth."

Brennan opened her mouth to protest, and then, despite her brain's commands to contradict the psychologist's acute pronouncement, found she couldn't say a word. Booth seemed to be in a similar state of paralysis. Again, Gordon Gordon chuckled mentally with gleeful delight. Deciding to drive his point home, he tilted his head and then said, "You are both quite wrong, by the way."

At this movement, almost as if a spell had been broken, Brennan found that she could speak once more. And, thus freed, before she knew what words were coming out of her mouth, Brennan vehemently countered, "No, we're not."

As soon as she had said it, as soon as the words had tumbled out of her mouth, she flushed in surprise and slight embarrassment. Her eyes widened in amazement at her statement, and her mouth snapped shut reflexively.

Booth, for his part, had opened his mouth to speak at almost the same time Brennan did, but she beat him to it. As soon as Booth heard speak those three little words, he felt as if some type of bomb had been dropped on him, as her words caught him completely off guard.

Turning to look at her, after several seconds of silence—as Gordon Gordon looked on at the pair in the way on a self-satisfied and slightly smug Englishman can—Booth finally arched an eyebrow and said, "Bones?"

Reaching over, Brennan abruptly grabbed Booth's hand and yanked him out of his seat. "We need to talk." Booth opened his mouth to protest, and Brennan quickly shook her head. "Now."

And, as Booth allowed himself to be dragged outside the dinner by Brennan, Gordon Gordon finally grinned as he said softly to himself, "Go forth, my children. Go forth and bask in the wonderful warmth of self-realization. For as a far wiser man than my humble self once said-

_Let me not to the marriage of true minds/Admit impediments. Love is not love/Which alters when it alteration finds,/Or bends with the remover to remove:/Oh, no, it is an ever fixed mark,/That looks on tempests and is never shaken;/It is the star to every wondering bark,/Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken._

Yes," Gordon Gordon replied with a self-satisfied nod. "He said that much better than I ever could." Then, looking up and gesturing to their waitress, Gordon Gordon said, "Yes, dear. I think I've changed my mind on the coffee. Can I get a spot of hot water for some tea please? I think my dining companions might be a while…."

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	19. That Time Brennan Verbally Engaged Booth

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 19: That Time Brennan Verbally Engaged Booth<p>

* * *

><p>As they stood watching the various pony play participants, Brennan was somewhat fascinated from an ethnographical perspective. Booth, for his part, seemed to be confused by the display of unorthodox behavior he was witnessing. But, much as if he was driving down a highway and had passed a gruesome accident, he was unable to look away from the scene before him—men and women in various states of undress, clothed in leather, and restrained in different ways with leather bindings and riding crops.<p>

Shaking her head, in response to Booth's observation about what he saw, Brennan mused, "Well, this isn't about the horses." She looked at Booth, arching an eyebrow as she explained, "It's about a dominant versus submissive balance of power, a variation on sado-masochism."

Pointing a finger in the vague direction of where a group of men had begun to consume whatever was contained in the horse trough, Booth shook his head in wonderment as he said, "Those people are eating from troughs..." His voice trailed off, and he glanced at Brennan, who seemed to be studying the scene with a critical eye. "Do you think that's sexy?"

Refusing to answer the question, Brennan instead offered, "Fetishism is a way of indulging in sexual activity, without actually engaging emotionally with the other person as a fully formed human being."

_She didn't answer my question_, Booth thought with a strange feeling coming over him. _Now, why in the hell wouldn't she answer a simple question like that? Bones never evades or ever avoids giving her opinion about something… unless_—_unless, she's into something like this herself? No, right? She's not into this kinda thing… right_? Booth suddenly wondered.

Unable to help himself, he decided a bit of a test was in order. Although he normally refrained from any kind of topic that might bring up sexual topics with Brennan, this time he wanted to see if she would take the bait. Smiling at her, Booth said, "Okay, sex is all about engaging." He held her eyes for a minute, and then added with a sly chuckle, "You don't wanna engage, you just stay home, and... you know—"

_Did Booth just make a veiled reference to self-abuse? _Brennan thought, her curiosity piqued. _Since when does he talk about sex, especially about masturbation… unless_—her thoughts trailed off, and Brennan had to refrain from letting a sly grin of her own creep onto her face. _Unless, he's become sexually aroused in some way by what he's seeing here? While I've long suspected that Booth's religious upbringing may have resulted in his repression of certain sexual preferences, maybe when he's confronted with such a visually stimulating and tangible display of evidence, perhaps he's unable to deny certain sexual longings and predilections he may have? Fascinating. _She stopped, and this time she did smile as she thought,_ There's only one way to find out for certain_—

"Well, they have masturbation fetishes," Brennan seemed to comment off-hand, picking up on the insinuation of Booth's prior comment. "Often involving women's shoes or undergarments—"

"Uh, pardon me," Lucky, the proprietor of the Ambassadora suddenly interrupted Brennan. "If you folks will excuse me for just one minute, I see one of my clients is signaling me about something. I'll be right back."

Booth nodded, letting out a sharp breath of relief when he was finally left alone with Brennan. He narrowed his eyes mildly to chide her.

"What?" Brennan said, uncertain why Booth seemed displeased with her.

"Bones," Booth began. "icks-nay on the ex-say alk-tay in front of strangers, huh?"

Frowning, Brennan said, "Well, there's no one who can hear us now, except the two of us, Booth, so I think it's appropriate for me to continue my point."

"And, what point is that again?" Booth asked, somewhat afraid of what Brennan would say in response.

"You know," Brennan nodded, with a knowing look in her eye.

"No," Booth said with a shake of his head. "I don't—"

"Well," Brennan began, taking on a disarmingly clinical tone. "I was just talking about masturbation—"

"Bones," Booth's voice took on a bit of a whine. "Really, now? You want to talk about this now?"

"Why not?" Brennan asked. "A few moments ago, it appeared as if you were more willing than normal to talk about topics of a sexual nature without tensing up and becoming so rigidly inflexible as you normally are on the topic."

Booth's eyes darted over to her when she said the words 'rigidly' and 'inflexible' before he mentally groaned and looked away. _You're killing me, Bones. Absolutely killing me_.

"I would be a fool not to take advantage of the situation," Brennan said, tilting her head. She smiled a bit as she added, "Particularly since I have several questions I'd like answered as it relates to this topic of discussion."

His head snapping up as he looed over at her, Booth's eyes widened in surprise. "Errr… what?"

"Masturbation, Booth," Brennan said. "Or, if you prefer alternative descriptors, self-abuse, onanism, getting one's self off—"

"Bones!" Booth sharply barked, his discomfort becoming clearly evident as his cheeks flushed a light pink. Brennan smiled at him when Booth lowered his voice and said, "Now, is not really the time to talk about this stuff, huh? We're here on a case, remember?"

"I have a perfect memory, Booth, so I never forget anything," Brennan said. "However, since you seem, as usual, to be growing increasingly uncomfortable with this topic of discussion, I'll curtail the questions I'd like to ask you about certain fetishes—"

"Wait," Booth interrupted her. "What about fetishes?"

"Well, I'm curious to know if you have any," Brennan finally admitted, a mischievous glint still dancing in her bright blue eyes.

"Do you?" Booth suddenly asked.

"Like what?" Brennan quickly countered. "The study of sexual fetishes is quite a complicated genre to master, Booth, even just from a purely clinical perspective. There are many, many, _many _different types of fetishes in which on can indulge. I'm not sure even I can explain them all. So, which ones do you want to know about? Of course, there are typical anatomical ones like the preference for an exaggerated male member, or large hands because of the old folktale adage that large configurations of the phalanges and carpals indicate a more prominent size for the male reproductive anatomy, or even the preference for strong muscular forearms that indicate strength and virility. But, then there can be ones that are more... precise. For example, some fetishes are situational and revolve around a favored sexual position like a male slamming a female against a wall or other hard surface, perhaps like a car door, before initiating coitus. Then, if you want to move past the anatomical and situational fetishes, there are your more object-based fetishes that include aesthetic costumes, like men wearing three-piece pinstripe suits, fire arm shoulder holsters, and other phallic objects in general like guns." Leveling her stare at Booth, Brennan then asked, "So, which kind were you asking about?"

"Uhhh…. any of them that are... well, you know...the kind you're into?" Booth suddenly said, unable to help himself as he blurted out the response, and then quickly closed his mouth as he realized what he normally only let echo in his head had actually been verbalized. _Screw it, _Booth thought. _In for the penny, in for the pound_.

Smiling her secret smile, Brennan said, "I would propose a compromise, Booth. We finish our required official case work here at the Ambassadora, and on the way back to the Jeffersonian, I'll show you mine if you show me yours—"

"Errr—" Booth's voice trailed off again, his pink blush now turning bright red as he looked at her and wasn't quite certain to what she was referring. "Meaning what, Bones?"

"Meaning," Brennan grinned. "You can ask me whatever you want, and I'll give you an honest answer about any sexual topic you can think of—provided, of course, you do the same."

And, as if she were the devil himself incarnate, Booth felt a renewed sense of urgency to find Mr. Ed's rider and finish their task at the pony play camp. Wagging a finger at her, Booth gave a deliberate nod and said, "You're on."

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	20. That Time Booth Got Hit On

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

A/N: So, since it's been a while since I've given a status update-here goes. First, updates will be coming in the next few days to a couple of my normal rotation stories, most likely "Revisiting a Big Mistake" and "More from Brennan's Journal." In case you haven't seen it yet, click on the exquisite _dharammonkey's_ profile to check out our collaboration, and read "Cognitive Dissonance, Part I" if you're into the raw, angsty, hot/sex-type edgy M-fics. Part 2 will be posted in the next couple of days under my account. And, no, just as an FYI, she and I are not the same person—although our mental processes are becoming disturbingly intertwined—and I have both coined and trademarked the term 'smutmonkey'. Last, but certainly not least, as for this fic, I still have a few ideas in the pipe line, but it's always good to get a few more since I can burn through them so quickly—as this week has shown. That concludes your author's rambling note. Happy Friday!~

* * *

><p>Ch 20: That Time Booth Got Hit On<p>

* * *

><p>To say that it had been a difficult week, was to make a significant understatement. In many ways, Brennan hated being back here. High school, in so many different ways, had been such a traumatic and horrible experience—one of the most miserable and lonely in her entire life. <em>My freshman year started off so promising<em>, Brennan thought to herself. _It was great for one semester, and then, Mom and Dad_—_well, it wasn't so great after that. _

After her parents' disappearance, and Russ' abandonment of her, while she had been relegated to the doldrums of the Illinois state foster system, she had turned even further inward and dealt with the pain and isolation by turning to logic and rational thought and the wonderful detached refuge offered to her by the world of science. _When I was thinking about science_, Brennan reflected, _it didn't hurt as badly as it did at other times_.

But, now, as if there was some grand cosmic deity that wanted to mock her—and Brennan still firmly refused to concede _that _point—after what was probably the second most difficult period in her life, she found herself back in Illinois at her high school, for a reunion. _But, this time, I'm not alone_, Brennan thought, a small knot of tension easing in her chest. _I'm not alone because he's here with me. I don't know how he can do it_—_especially after everything that's happened between us in the past week. But, he's here with me. I'm not alone. He didn't leave me alone to face this case by myself even though it's got to be tearing him up inside having to be reminded of what happened last week. How can he stand this? God, I just don't_ _know how he can do it, but I'm so grateful, so glad he did. You didn't leave me, Booth. You didn't leave me. But, I hate being back here. I really do. Even though I only came here to find specimens to dissect in my scientific studies, everyone else always came here to participate in sexual activities. It's ironic, actually, now that I think about it. I'm finally bringing a man here, you're someone that I've never felt a stronger sexual attraction for in my entire life, and now, instead of bringing you here for pleasurable pastimes, Booth, I'm here with you because of science. Yes, *that's* ironic._

As they continued walking towards the barn and the local law enforcement officials, Booth noticed Brennan appeared to be distracted. He noticed the tight angle of her jaw and was even more glad he had forced himself to come here with her. _What's going on in the brain of yours, Bones? You're know you're not alone, this time, right? I'm here, right beside you. I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere. _However, such emotional thoughts were pushed away when Brennan suddenly started about touching male genitalia. _Whoa, Bones. What the hell? Did you just go there? Really?_

When they finally stopped, a woman about the same age as Brennan came forward and nodded at Booth. "I'm Sheriff Rebecca Conway." Her eyes darted up and down Booth's body, taking in his black leather jacket, grey thermal tee, and firm fitting but well worn jeans. "You the Federal backup?"

Booth flipped open his badge with a nod. "FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth."

Conway glanced at the SUV, and she nodded. "Nice wheels."

Her eyes than darted back to Booth's face, and she gave him an appreciative stare. "Nice face—"

Brennan remembered that voice. Even though it had been more than a decade since she last heard it, she knew what was going on in Becky's voice, because she'd heard her admire enough boys over their morning chemistry lesson to know what was coming next.

"—and bod." Brennan's lips curled as her brow furrowed in annoyance as she felt a flash of… something shoot through her at Becky's words. "Very nice," she finished with a leer.

Booth, for his part, seemed to be appropriately uncomfortable as Brennan glanced over at him. Giving her a sheepish look as if to say—_what do you want me to do about it_—he hesitantly responded, "Thank you."

As Conway continued to ogle Booth with intense appreciation, the strange emotional flare that Brennan felt suddenly reappeared, this time stronger, more intense than what she'd felt previously. _I don't like her looking at Booth that way_, Brennan thought, _I don't like it at all. As a matter a fact, I feel a strange inclination to tell her to keep her damn leering gaze to herself. What… why am I feeling this way? Unless_—_oh, God, it can't be. Am I… jealous? Of Becky? Because… she's hitting on... Booth?_

The realization shook her. Exhaling slowly, Brennan felt an immediate need to reassert herself. Edging towards Conway, and placing herself between her partner and the sheriff, Brennan said, "We know each other. Becky, right? I'm Temperance."

With a knowing look, Conway said, "I know who you are, Temperance. Everyone knows who you are these days. Local girl hits it big and makes good," Conway said as she nodded at Booth. "As soon as we heard you were coming, word started to get around." She stopped and then nodded, "So, uh, the body's this way—"

"Just one moment, please," Brennan said, interrupting the sheriff. "Before you show us where the remains are, I'm going to need to retrieve some additional supplies from the SUV."

As soon as Brennan spoke, Booth knew something was off. Glancing over at his partner, a strange look came onto his face as he thought, _Since when do you need more than a pair of gloves to do a preliminary examination, Bones?_

"Booth, can you assist me in retrieving the gear, please?" Brennan asked, quite brusquely, before she turned around and quickly disappeared in the direction from which they had come, leaving Booth no choice but to follow, after making a quick apology to Conway.

A minute later, Brennan was back at the SUV, the rear door popped open. Booth approached cautiously, noting his partner's strange behavior—behavior that was even more weird when he saw her standing with her legs partly astride as she had each palm firmly planted on each side of the SUV's surface, almost as if she was bolstering herself for support. Her eyes were closed, and Brennan appeared to be muttering something when he approached.

"Bones?" Booth asked, concern clear in his voice as he got closer. "You okay?"

"Fine, Booth," Brennan muttered. "Just fine."

"You sure?" he asked, coming up behind her. "Because, I've been working cases with you for more than five years now, and this is the first time I've ever seen you tell someone that you needed more than a pair of nitrile gloves and your eyes before you could get to squinting at a set of remains."

"I… you're right," Brennan said, still not turning around. "I fabricated that subterfuge in order to obtain a few moments in private, away from everyone who was watching us."

Booth, thinking that being back in her hometown was harder for Brennan than either one of them had thought it would be, placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. "Don't worry, Bones. You're not the same person you were the last time you were here, you know that, right? It'll be okay. I promise."

"No," Brennan ground out. "No, it won't. Not until—not until I correct an error I made because I was an idiot. A huge, complete, idiot, Booth."

"What?" Booth laughed. "You forget to pack your gloves, or something, Bones? Because if you did, I'm sure they have a spare set we can get for you—"

Suddenly, Brennan spun on Booth, and he saw for the first time how she had flushed red and her chest was going up and down as she took short, rapid breaths. Her blue eyes seemed very blue as her pupils dilated and focused on him. Reaching out, she grabbed the edge of his leather jacket and pulled her towards him.

"No," Brennan muttered, her lips coming close to Booth's ears. "I didn't forget my gloves, Booth." She looked at him then, seeing confusion and bewilderment in his eyes. "I was an idiot," she repeated. "I was an idiot, and I don't think I realized how very stupid I was until just now when Becky started ogling you to register her sexual interest."

"What are you saying, Bones?" Booth finally breathed.

"I'm saying that when Becky hit on you that I found that I was having an intense emotional reaction. I'm... I'm jealous, Booth—extremely, irrationally, uncontrollably jealous, and I insist that once we finish this preliminary investigation of the crime scene that you give me another opportunity to amend our discussion from last week," Brennan said, each word falling free from her lips as if she were confessing some great truth to him. _And, maybe I am, _Brennan thought.

Booth, uncertain what to make of Brennan's sudden about turn, could only lick his lips once before he nodded. "Okay, Bones—" He stopped, just because he couldn't get his hopes up. _Not again, _Booth thought to himself. _Not after last week's disaster. _"But, just so we're on the same page, are you saying what I think you're saying?"

Brennan, her eyes closed, leaned into his warmth. She pressed her body up against and rotated her hips as a small moan escaped from Booth's mouth. Her eyes snapped open, and she smiled as she did it again just to make certain there would be no mistaking her intentions. "Does that answer your question, Booth?"

Wrapping his arms around her, Booth gave her a quick squeeze before letting her go. "Definitely, Bones."

Feeling an incredibly lighthearted feeling come over her, Brennan smiled as she said, "Good."

Reaching into the SUV, Booth absentmindedly grabbed Brennan's larger field kit, although both of them knew it was highly unlikely she'd need it on the preliminary investigation. Slinging it over his shoulders, he shut the door and then started back towards the barn. Brennan fell into step behind him and said, "You know, Booth. Once we finish here, there's a spot not too far away that was even more notorious as a discrete rendezvous point where people—"

"Went when they wanted some action, Bones?" Booth grinned at her.

She slowly nodded.

"Uh, yeah," Booth said, meeting her gaze and giving her a slight nod. "Maybe that would make a good detour on the way back to the hotel, huh?"

Brennan's only answer was a bright smile of her own as she returned Booth's grin.

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	21. That Time Brennan Went Into the Field

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 21: That Time Brennan Went Into the Field<p>

* * *

><p>Brennan wasn't pleased to be there, and she had absolutely no qualms venting the full blast of her displeasure at the current source of her ire. <em>I don't want to be here, I want to be back at the lab. I don't want to be here, with you, but I am because *you* dragged me here. I want to be back at the lab doing my work, away from you<em>—_and I don't want to be here!_

As they continued walking to crime scene, threading their way through the complicated maze that had sprung up on the highway of people, moving and parked vehicles, sirens, and flashing lights, Brennan was aware at how close to her Booth was sticking, following on her heels like an over-eager puppy.

"Why am I here?" she grumbled as they continued walking.

Shaking his head slightly, Booth looked at her as he gestured, "You know, you used to like come out to the field."

Brennan, not one to be cowed, glanced around her as she talked over Booth. "No car fires, no tanker barrels—"

He gestured with his hands as they passed an ambulance, "You used to insist to me…"

"—full of acid. No explosions…" Brennan droned on, as she shook her head, her anger growing.

"— you were _insistent_—" Booth muttered, unclear as to why Brennan was being so difficult about things. _I'm mean, really, Bones. What's your problem? You said… I mean, I know things with you dad didn't go exactly like we planned. But, you said you understood and that you were okay with things. You said, when I asked you, that we were good, so why have you been avoiding me for weeks? I just don't get it_—

Feeling as if Booth were still too close to her, Brennan made a sharp turn to her left, and began to walk away from him. Booth, reflexively reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her in the correct direction. Brennan scowled and then shot Booth a look as she let him guide her to the proper spot once he dropped her arm. As they approached the car, Brennan narrowed her eyes and said, "Don't tell me you brought me out here for a car accident—"

Shaking his head again, Booth said, "Now, you're just anxious to get back, you know. I can barely get you out of your lab coat."

Brennan stopped abruptly, her sudden movements causing Booth to almost run into her. Her eyes flashed with the anger clearly evident in her gaze as her lips thinned, and she clenched her fists.

Booth, noticing the change, refused to let Brennan intimidate him. "What?"

"Don't do that!" Brennan said sharply.

"Do what?" Booth asked, still uncertain as to what he'd said that had pissed Brennan off so much and so quickly.

"Don't make insinuations about me of a sexual nature," Brennan said through gritted teeth.

"Whoa!" Booth said, waving his hands in front of her in supplication. "Wait—what did you just say?"

"You just insinuated that you wanted to remove my lab coat, no doubt as a part of some type of sexual foreplay," Brennan said, her body rigid and tense as she crossed her arms in a clearly defensive pose.

"No, Bones. You're wrong. What I meant, well, there's nothing sexual about that," Booth said, flashing her a sheepish grin. "All I meant was that it's been a while since you traded the blue lab coat for the blue field jumpsuit, Bones. That's it."

Brennan considered his words, and then shook her head. "No, it wasn't."

Narrowing his own eyes at the sharpness of her tone, Booth felt a surge of annoyance. _Why are you being so damn unreasonable, Bones?_ He stopped, stared at the stubbornness and inflexibility radiating from her gaze, and reconsidered his original response to talk her down from her strong surge of emotions. lest she start to shut down on him again and give him the silent treatment. _Fine__. You want to do it this way, that's fine. As long as you're talking to me again, we'll play it your way. _"Okay, Bones. So, what if it wasn't?" Booth said, widening his eyes as he nodded with her. "What if it wasn't? You have a problem with that?"

"Maybe!" Brennan shot back.

"Ooooohhhh," Booth laughed, clearly taunting her. "I'm shaking here, Bones. Man, I'm telling you—I'm _so _scared right now. I'm shaking with fear at your big, bad 'maybe'."

In that minute, Brennan saw red. She reached out, grabbing a fist full of Booth's grey t-shirt, and yanked him hard towards her. "Let's be clear about one thing, Booth," Brennan muttered. "I'm sick and tired of you starting things you've no intention of finishing… unless it involves arresting my father."

"Ha!" Booth snapped. "I knew it! You're still pissed off at me because I arrested your old man."

"Hardly," Brennan said, her laugh haughty. "He broke the law, and although he did kick your ass before you could bring him in—"

"Now, wait just a damn minute," Booth said, jerking his body away from Brennan's and putting a couple of feet between them. "Max didn't kick my ass at all. _I _was the one who beat _him_."

"Oh, yes," Brennan said. She felt a strange sensation take hold of her, as if some part of her were issuing commands for her brain to speak in a way not okayed by her rational self. _I can't help it, though, _Brennan thought. _I'm still so pissed off at what he did with Zach, but, God_— _I've missed him, too. I've missed you, Booth. Damn it_— "A man in his late fifties going up against a younger alpha male in his thirties amped up on testosterone and self-righteousness—" She paused and then leaned into Booth as she spoke, her voice dripping with a challenge, "That seems really fair, Booth." She stopped her voice very hard and dangerous as she said quietly, in a low tone that only Booth could hear. "Next time, why don't you measure you're virility with someone a bit more suited to kicking your ass on an even playing field, Booth. Someone who's younger, smarter, and more physically fit than you are… and then, maybe, we'll see if you can actually finish something that you actually start—"

Booth's eyes blazed at her, partially confused as to what in the hell had gotten into Brennan and partially incredibly turned on by the aggression her saw in her. "That sounds like you're throwing down the gauntlet there, Bones. Are you challenging me?"

_All the time, _Brennan thought. _And, you love it. _"You tell me, Booth," Brennan said, pulling back as she looked at him with a knowing look in her eye. "You're the one who brought up getting me out of my lab coat." She stopped, letting her gaze focus on him pointedly, before she let her eyes languorously take in his casual appearance from head-to-toe. She noted everything from the way he looked in his tight blue jeans, to the bulge concealed by his nylon FBI windbreaker that she knew was where he kept his gun in a hip holster, to his short and crisp haircut—one that Brennan knew he'd gotten recently. "So," she finished, when it was obvious that Booth knew what she was doing, "Anytime you think you want to give it an actual go, you know where to find me."

Booth stared at her for a minute, refusing to break their eye contact, as he swallowed once, uncertain why or how what had just happened had actually just happened. Never one to be intimidated, though—especially by Brennan, Booth finally leaned into her himself, and said, in a very dangerous whisper, "Fine, Bones. Car's over there with a skull in the windshield. Do your squint thing, and as soon as you're done, we'll leave, and I'll show you just how can good I can be about ripping off your lab coat… and every other piece of clothing you're wearing right now—from your boots to your panties."

Brennan shivered at his clearly lewd comment, but felt a warm flush of pleasure at his insinuation. She glanced at her watch, made a quick mental calculation, and then nodded to herself. Reaching into her bag, she quickly pulled out a pair of gloves, and inclined her head at him and as she said, "If it's only a partial set of remains, particularly just a skull, I can be done in seven minutes… or less."

"Fine," Booth told her. "Seven minutes then—and, then, Bones, you're going to really see just who can kick who's ass."

"Sounds like fun," Brennan said, as she quickly turned on her heels and the seven-countdown began.

Not certain what in the hell he'd just gotten himself into, Booth could only mutter to himself, "Game on."

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	22. That Time Brennan Confessed

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 22: That Time Brennan Confessed<p>

* * *

><p>It had been a difficult case, particularly for Brennan. In a way, being confronted with a case where two co-workers had fallen in love with each other and then had to hide it from the rest of the world reverberated in a way that she hadn't expected it to affect her. And, now—<em>now<em> that she was alone, with Booth, for the very first time since she'd returned from Guatemala, and he'd been sick, well, it made her a bit nervous.

"You know, Bones, I'm.. I'm glad that, uh, we don't have any secrets between each other," Booth suddenly said, as he looked over at her.

They were laying on their stomachs on the floor of his kitchen, staring at the piping under his sink that they'd just spent the afternoon repairing. As he spoke, not for the first time since she'd been back, Brennan was struck by how tender and how open and how trusting he was in a way that she wasn't used to—in a single word: unguarded.

However, his words echoed in her head, she felt her throat go dry as she contemplated their significance. _No secrets, between us. He's happy because he thinks there's no secrets between us. But, Booth_—_how can you know that? How can you possibly know that when it's not true. It's a lie. It's a lie, and I didn't think I realized how big a lie until this very minute. _

Slowly, Brennan vaguely replied, "Yeah, I like that."

Her words brought a smile to Booth's face, one that light up his entire person. "I mean, if we have something on our mind we just, we just share it," he said with a happy nod.

_God, don't do this to me, Booth. I can't… I can't deal with you, and deal with this_—_all of this at the same time_, Brennan thought. _I don't know how. I just don't. Please_—

"Sure," was the only lame response she could offer. Then, quite unexpectedly, Brennan added, "Even with all of the financial and intellectual contradictions, I still… feel close to you."

She wanted to bit her tongue as hard as possible as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Again, Booth tilted his head at her and gave Brennan a soft smile that made her heart melt metaphorically.

"Right, because you know, none of that really matters, anyway," Booth replied.

Slowly, Brennan nodded. "Sometimes—looking at it through your eyes, I believe that," she said honestly.

His hand coming over to lightly rest on hers, Booth said, "There are a lot of things I wish you could see through my eyes, Bones."

"Such as?" Brennan dared to breathe.

"Such as the fact that when I look at the person laying next to me—this amazing, wonderful, smart, talented, strong, funny, incredibly sexy woman, I can't help but wonder why she can't see what I see when I look at her, the way I've been looking at her all day since she showed up at my place at 8:30 on a Saturday morning on her day off instead of going to the lab, when she's with me, indulging me, by letting me try to teach her something—"

"You're a very effective instructor, Booth," Brennan said, feeling the warmth from where his hand was covering hers feel as if it were burning her skin. "I never doubted that you're a good teacher."

"I just doubt it myself," Booth told her quietly.

"You shouldn't," Brennan said, her eyes come to meet his. "I know… I know that since I've been gone that I've missed some things, but I know things about you, Booth. And, one thing I more certain of than just about any other constant I can think of right now, is that there's no reason that you should doubt yourself—what you think or how you feel."

"Maybe," Booth said. "Maybe the old me—"

"No," Brennan insisted. "There is no metaphorical 'old Booth' or 'new Booth'."

"But, my dream—"

"I don't care about that damn dream," Brennan suddenly snapped, frustration at herself suddenly seizing upon the situation as a pressure release at the guilt Brennan was feeling and had been feeling for more than seven weeks.

Moving her hand away from his, Brennan didn't have the heart to look at the pained look on Booth's face as she squirmed out from under the sink and came to rest on her haunches in the kitchen.

Booth sighed as he too climbed out from under the sink and kicked himself into an upright position, crossing his legs to sit Indian-style in front of her.

"I'm sorry," he began slowly. "I know you don't want to hear about it again because it upset you, Bones. And, I know now that it wasn't real. We weren't married, you're not Bren, we're not… not having a child—"

Her head snapped up at his words, and as her nostrils flared slightly, Brennan said, "That's not why I don't care about the dream, Booth." She sighed, suddenly deflating as she looked away from him and said, "I don't care about it because that damn dream just reminds me of how much I screwed up, and it reminds me of how much I've been keeping of you since it happened. You said you were glad that we didn't have any secrets between the two of us, Booth. Right?"

"Yes, I did. And, I mean that, Bones," he replied.

"But, it's not true," Brennan told him. "It's not true at all."

Confusion clear on his face, Booth shook his head slowly as he said, "Why not, Bones? I've told you everything—"

"But,_ I_ haven't told _you _everything, Booth," Brennan said. Shaking her head, she looked away from him and bit her lips for several long minutes before she breathed. "I've been keeping things from you."

Slowly, Booth's hand crept out towards Brennan's. He rested it lightly on her thigh as he pleaded for her to meet his gaze. "Like what, Bones?"

"Like the fact that I'm so sorry I left you when I did," Brennan suddenly confessed, almost as if a damn of truth had been finally breached. Finally, she met his gaze, and Brennan felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes as she saw the depth of the warm emotions swirling in them as he looked at her. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have left. I shouldn't have gone, but I was scared, and I didn't know what else to do. I shouldn't have left you all alone like that, and it's been killing me for almost two months, Booth. And, I missed you—"

Brennan stopped, and she bit her lip again before slowly nodding at him.

"I missed you while I was gone—so very, _very _much. And, now… now we're back, and I don't know how to fix any of this except by feeling this overwhelming sense of guilt that's been eating me alive, Booth," Brennan finally finished.

Moving his hand from where it lightly rested on her leg, Booth came up on his knees, and gently cupped her face. He was ecstatic when Brennan didn't pull away. Holding her gaze with his own, Booth smiled and said, "Then, just start at the beginning, Bones."

"How do I do that?" Brennan asked. "I don't know how to do that, Booth."

"It's easy," he told her, stroking her jaw with the callused skin of his thumb in a very tender movement. "Open your mouth and just start talking. Then, we'll see what comes out, and we'll deal with it, together—whatever it is, because, there's no secrets between us, remember?"

"I remember," Brennan slowly nodded.

And, so, with Booth still gently caressing her cheeks, Brennan opened her mouth and began to speak.

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	23. That Time Brennan Refused to Move

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 23: That Time Brennan Refused to Move<p>

* * *

><p>The lab was unusually quiet but for the sounds of the Punky Pong game machine that reverberated through the halls of the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal unit with distinctly pronounced echo. It was late, and but for the occasional wandering security guard, everyone had already left for the day—everyone but for Booth and Brennan.<p>

With a stack of quarters lined up on the game console, a competitive vibe clearly flowed between the two partners as Booth explained to Brennan a few of the finer nuances of the game. They had just finished their umpteenth discussion about love, talking about other people when they were really talking about themselves, and living vicariously when and where they could since a direct discussion of the topic was still taboo.

Ready to begin her game, Brennan frowned when she hit the controls of the Puinky Pong machine and got no response. She had watched Sweets and several of the interns play the game for several hours over the tenure of the case, seemingly conducting various osteological analyses, when, in fact, she had been multi-tasking. It was very important to her that she could compete on the same level as Booth, and if not outright defeat him, at least hold her own against him. Now, thoroughly prepared, she was certain she could make a good showing when she had suggested they return to the lab for an impromptu Punky Pong battle royale. Booth had given her a strange look before he agreed, a condition of his acceptance of her challenge that they stop at a convenience store en route to the lab for some strange reason if she really wanted to play. Now, _now_ that she was quite certain she was able to demonstrate her newly honed hand-eye coordination skills by playing the game, Brennan felt a very strong pang of frustration when it wouldn't even start.

She'd been somewhat further annoyed when Booth had taken one of the quarters from his stack—apparently he'd insisted that they stop at the convenience store to get change—and tossed it to her with a smart flip of his wrist. Brennan raised her eyebrows at him, but caught the coin with one swift and fluid movement. Taking the quarter, she plunked it into the game, which immediately sprang to life as the lights and sounds indicated it was ready to be played. The game seemed to mock her as Booth watched in amusement. Her eyes shot over to her partner, who seemed to be having more fun watching Brennan try to play the game than watching the game actually be played itself.

"Knock 'em dead," Booth told her confidently.

"I will," Brennan confirmed, staring at him with a determined glint in her eyes. The slight air of smugness that seemed to pervade his smile at her merely infuriated her even more. Wanting to prove him wrong in his disbelief of her ability to adapt and learn how to successfully play a simple video game, Brennan nodded at him. "I will knock you dead. I will prove you wrong."

Booth chuckled at her, his eyes wide with mischief as he countered her taunt with one of his own. "Big words!"

Taking her position at the game controls, Brennan smirked at him, "Level one, baby."

She began to squint at the screen, and she felt the competitive excitement begin to bubble over as she waited for the game to start. The music began to play, and for a few seconds, she felt the excitement grow. But, as soon as the excitement had blossomed, it withered within her like a grape left too long on the vine in the sun, when she saw the screen go blank and then return to the first introductory scene. Shock quickly replaced her exuberant excitement. Looking at Booth, the question shining clear in her eyes even as she spoke it, she asked, "What happened?"

Booth only shrugged by way of an answer, and then smirked at her as he slightly gestured for her to move away from the game console. "My turn."

Shaking her head, Brennan refused to move. "No, it's not your turn. What do you mean? It just stopped, so…"

Laughing at her outright this time, Booth said, "That's right." He gestured with his thumb for Brennan to move again. "No, sit right there."

"No," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "I didn't lose."

"Well, you put the quarter in, the game's over—" Booth said with another shrug of his shoulders.

Insistent, Brennan glared at him. "No, it's not."

Apologetically, Booth placed his hands on his hips as he said, "Maybe it's your energy."

"It's the machine," Brennan countered. "It broke."

Biting back another laugh, Booth said, "Maybe it's your math."

Shooting him another look, one that made it clear how displeased she was that he had dared to question her math skills, Brennan said, "It's not my math."

Booth again gestured for her to move. "My turn…"

"No," Brennan said, firmly planting her feet in front of the Punky Pong machine. "It's not. That's not fair. I didn't lose. I didn't even get a chance to play."

"Not my problem, Bones," Booth chuckled. "Now, scram. It's my turn."

"No," she repeated, shaking her head. "No, it's not your turn. It's still my turn."

"Yes," Booth said, suddenly some of the casual levity leaving his voice. "Seriously, Bones. Scram. Move. It's time for you to see how it's done by the master."

"I'm _not _moving," Brennan told him, her jaw tightening.

"Yes, yes, you are," Booth insisted. When he saw her dig in her feet and strengthen her stance, he rolled his eyes. "God, why do you have to always make things so difficult?"

"I'm not being difficult," Brennan retorted with a slight snort. "You're the one who insulted my math skills."

"Bones, come on," Booth pleaded one last time. "Please, move? Please?"

"No," Brennan said, the bravado in her voice clearly challenging him. "I'm not moving, Booth. Not until I can play my game."

"Bones—" Booth growled. "Not everything has to be a competition."

"I'm not the one who thinks this is some type of game between us, Booth," Brennan threw back at him. "You're the one who's always thought he was better than me—"

Booth guffawed at this, and Brennan shot him a look.

"I'm just responding to you," Brennan finished.

"Okay, then how about you respond to me by moving your cute little tush about two feet that a'way, huh? I want to play my game now." Booth said, with a small grin, hoping that perhaps charm might succeed where logic and pleading hadn't done the job.

"Nope," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "Nope, not happening, Booth—definitely not happening." Suddenly, the delayed reaction of Booth's words registered in Brennan's head: _Cute little tush? Really, Booth? Since when do you think I have a 'cute little tush'... let alone say it, huh? What's does *that* mean? Hmmm…_

"Bones, I'm serious," Booth told her, his body tensing as he glanced at her and tried to figure out the least painful way it would be possible to remove her from the console so that he could have his turn. "Now, I'm done playing around. Seriously. I want to play, so get out of the way."

"Make me," Brennan said, looking at him with her eyes blazing in defiance of his orders.

"Fine," Booth said, having had enough of her stubbornness over something as a game. He moved quickly, taking a step towards her as he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

As soon as they touched, it was as if they'd both instantly been burned. Slowly, Booth lifted his eyes to meet hers. Brennan's blue eyes had suddenly darkened as her heart rate increased and her breathing grew very shallow.

"Booth?" she breathed.

Licking his lips, Booth swallowed and then responded, his voice very hoarse, even to his ears. "Yeah, Bones?"

"Are we still playing?" she asked quietly.

As he leaned in, unable to help himself as he leaned in to her, drawn to her very soft lips. "Yeah, Bones," Booth repeated. "I think we are, but—it's just suddenly turned into a whole new game. You… you okay with that?"

"Yes,," Brennan said, smiling. "I'm okay with that as long as we don't stop now, " she finished before she then leaned in to meet Booth the rest of the way, and they finally shared a searing kiss.

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	24. That Time Brennan Didn't Like His Tie

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 24: That Time Brennan Didn't Like Booth's Tie<p>

* * *

><p>For some reason, each time that Brennan stared at Booth's tie, she felt an illogical and irrational surge of very strong emotion flow through her. The aggressive hostility that the blue-patterned tie evoked didn't make any sense to her until Booth had explained that it was a gift—from Dr. Catherine Bryar, the marine biologist.<p>

As they continued walking through the hotel and chatted about the tie, Brennan was of two minds. One knew she needed to focus on the case while the other kept nagging at her to do something about her ire. _I'm not sure what I'm more bothered by_—_the fact that she gave him a gift, the gift was a tie, Booth accepted the gift and liked it and/or valued it enough to wear it, or the fact that he wore it knowing it has dolphins on it. He knows the significance of what a dolphin is to me, and yet he still is wearing that damn tie that is so ugly and makes dolphins seem tacky. I think I hate Dr. Bryar. Anyone who can find such a horribly tacky representation of the dolphin as portrayed on that tie aesthetically pleasing has questionable taste_—_unless she *knew* how bad it actually looked, and gave it to Booth anyway, in which case, it's clear she had some nefarious reason for wanting him to be ridiculed. No, none of this is good. None of it at all._

As Cam called out something to her and then climbed into the industrial washing machine, Brennan continued to stare at the remains without actually looking at them. Booth, standing just behind her, still seemed fascinated with the obvious discomfort his tie had wrought in Brennan.

"Hey," he asked Brennan, the confusion still clear on his face. "What's so interesting about my tie?"

Sighing, Brennan knew she'd never get any work done with the remains unless she yanked the tie off his neck, tossed it into a vat of gasoline, struck a match, and watched it happily burn into ashes. Standing up, Brennan said, "Well, a gift is a social contract - a basic anthropological construct. By giving you a tie, Catherine has entered into a social contract with you."

Not certain in Brennan was being truthful or exaggerating her anthropological mumbo jumbo to tease him, Booth asked, "Really?"

Slowly, Brennan nodded. Snapping off her gloves, she turned her head over to where Cam was going through the washer to examine the evidence present inside. "Cam?"

"Yes, Dr. Brennan?" she asked.

"One of the witnesses that found the body is about to be taken away to be treated for nausea with an antiemetic at the hospital. Before she goes, we need to ask her a couple of questions, so we'll be right back, okay?" Brennan replied.

"Sure," Cam called out. "You know where I'll be."

Booth for his part, stared at Brennan in open mouthed confusion as she suddenly spun on her heels, grabbed his hand, and yanked him hard in the opposite direction from where Cam was standing. "Come on, Booth," she grunted.

Still half-surprised at Brennan's odd behavior, and half-curious to see what she was up to, Booth allowed himself to be dragged through a random path of twists and turns until they were quite far away from Cam and the other crime scene techs. Brennan only stopped when she had pulled him into a secluded spot between two industrial strengthen dryers that were graced by a series of carts that held clean bedding in them waiting to be folded. When they finally stopped moving, Booth looked at Brennan with a inquisitive look as he merely asked, "Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?" she asked, immediately looking up at his eyes, although he knew from the forced aspect of her tone that _something _was bothering Brennan since she was doing everything she could to keep her tone of voice neutral and professional.

"Ummm, why did you just lie to Cam?" Booth asked, pursing his lips in amusement. "A. We already talked to that witness and B. she left the scene twenty minutes ago."

"I-I…" Brennan's voice trailed off before she finally nodded at him. "You're right. I lied."

"I know that," Booth laughed. "What I want to know is why."

Sighing, Brennan said, "I found it necessary to remove us from Cam's presence so as to affect a change that was impeding my work, Booth."

"And, what's that Bones?" Booth asked.

Her lips pursed into a thin hard line, Brennan finally pointed to his tie. "That tie. I hate it."

"Why?" Booth asked. "It's got dolphins on it. You love dolphins. That's why I wore it. I thought you'd think it was cute."

At his words, Brennan narrowed her eyes. "Wait. You wore that tie because you thought I'd appreciate it's aesthetic appeal?"

"Well, yeah, Bones," Booth explained. "You're the only person I know that has a thing for dolphins so—"

"Your choice to wear it has nothing to do with the fact that it was given to you by Dr. Bryar?" Brennan asked. "Nothing at all?"

"No," Booth said with a shake of his head. "Not really." He paused before he tilted his head to look at her and asked, "Why?"

Quickly, Brennan took a step towards him. In a move that strangely echoed how she had begun to undress him on Christmas day after the bombing in front of the bank of rendered Booth a human collection of forensic evidence, Brennan's hands went to his tie and quickly unloosened the knot. Before Booth knew what had happened, she had loosened the tie enough to slip it over his head. Brennan then tossed it as hard and as fast as she could onto the opposite side of the room. Smiling at him, flushed with excitement as she was quite pleased with herself, Brennan's eyes danced with glee. Her breathing with a bit rapid as she explained, "While I appreciate that sentiment, I hate that tie. It's aesthetically inaccurate, visually displeasing, and in every possible way I can imagine quite gauche and tacky. I never want you to wear it again."

Booth narrowing his eyes as he'd felt goosebumps rise at her touch, asked, "All you had to do was say you didn't like my tie, Bones. That would've done the trick."

Coming up next to him, she raised a hand to the collar of his dress shirt. Unbuttoning the top button, she felt him shiver slightly at her touch, a she smiled and gently ran her finger tips along the edge of the portion of his neck that was now exposed. "I don't like your tie," Brennan said quietly. "And, I find I much, much prefer this look than the one espoused by that tie."

"Of course," Booth replied, surprised she recalled his similar words from so long ago, "This is a crime scene, not a bar."

"Then, maybe we need to work to finish our assigned tasks here and find out what happens when you and I can go to a place where your current look is more appropriate and acceptable?" Brennan tentatively proposed.

Booth's hands, very warm and gentle, came up to hers as he lowered them from his neck. His warm brown irises had started to darken in that moment as he said, "You know what you're suggesting, right, Bones?"

"Of course, Booth," Brennan said, as she smiled at him. "Do you?"

"You're not going to wear the jumpsuit, right?" Booth suddenly smiled at her, breaking out into his trademark grin.

Laughing, Brennan shook her head. "Even you're not that lucky."

Wagging his eyebrows at her, Booth said, "Now, we'll just have to see about that, won't we?"

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	25. That Time B&B Saw Angela Rant

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 25: That Time B&amp;B Saw Angela Rant<p>

* * *

><p>At first, it had been incredibly difficult getting used to certain aspects of being back in D.C.—having people that cared about her and wanted to know what she was thinking about non-scientific things was perhaps the most difficult adjustment she was having to make.<p>

_Okay, _Brennan thought to herself as she chatted with Angela about their respective time a part. _Maybe that's not exactly true. I've been back for three days, and I think the most difficult thing to which I'm going to have to adapt is the fact is that nothing, and I mean absolutely *nothing* is like I left it. Everything's changed. But, is that really so surprising? I mean, I changed. I've changed so much, and now_—_well, things have changed, and things didn't go like I planned, but I'll deal with the change. I'm an organism just like anything else. I've changed, I've evolved, and I'll do what I need to get to where I need to go_—_even if I never expected things to turn out quite like this…_

Watching her friend only half pay attention to their conversation, Angela couldn't help herself as she abruptly asked, "Did you think about Booth at all when you were away?"

At Angela's question, and the sudden unexpected use of her partner's name, Brennan's full attention was drawn from her inner musings and back to reality. She stared at Angela for a minute, her gaze hard, but uncertain. _Why would you ask me that, Ange? Of course I thought about him. How could you think that I wouldn't? He's spent the majority of the last six years as a major part of most days of my life_—_more so than my father, my brother, my friends, and—even though I'd probably never admit it—my work. Of course, I thought about him more than anyone else, more than anything else. Every time I was alone, the only thing I could think about was him_—_how he looked, the sound of his voice, his smell, the way he made me feel when he merely smiled at me_—_and I spent a lot of time alone, Ange…probably too much time. So, does that tell you how much time I spent thinking about Booth?  
><em>

Knowing she wasn't ready to tell Angela _all _of that quite yet, taking a breath, Brennan finally nodded at her best friend. She decided that a version of the truth was better than nothing and so began to talk slowly. "Yes, I did—" Angela looked at her happy expectation, and for some reason, although she wasn't quite certain why, Brennan couldn't help herself as she added softly, "A few times I actually… dreamed about him."

_I dreamed about him almost every night, Ange_. _But, I think you knew that'd happen when I left seven months ago, didn't you? This is what you warned me about_—_hell, this is what he warned me about that night, wasn't it? I could run thousands of miles away from him, but never how I feel about him because that's with me always. And, I've carried that like a loadstone these many months…and now, now what do I do about it? What can I do about it? I feel like my feelings are an albatross hanging around my neck choking me into futile submission._

Angela, still watching Brennan struggle with her thoughts—or, more appropriately, her feelings—tried to gently prod her friend. "Oh, well, there you go! Dreams are very meaningful."

_You have no idea, _Brennan thought sadly. _Sometimes, I think I liked my dreams more than when I was actually awake_—_and, I don't mean that because of some of the erotic dreams I frequently had about him—although, I must admit, that some of those were quite satisfying in their explicitness. But, what's the point in dwelling on that? It's too late, and the sooner I let that go—the sooner I let him go—the easier it'll be for everyone involved, myself most of all._

Shaking her head slowly, her decision to let Booth go now made, Brennan said, "I dreamed about the work we do; I dreamed about catching murderers and getting justice for… people who were killed. What does that mean?"

Sadly, Angela shook her head at her friend. "It means you're going to die loveless and alone."

"Now, why do you have to tell her that, Angela?" a new voice interrupted the pair. Angela looked up as Booth walked to where the pair sat and couldn't help it as her eyes narrowed at the interruption. "You know she'll take that too literally. Then, we'll have to hear some squinty explanation as to why it's an anthropological inevitability that people are better off unattached and unencumbered, blah, blah, blah." He stopped and looked at the graphic artist as he smiled and added, "And, since we both know that that's a load of crap, you're kinda hurting the case I've been making for years for Bones to see the light—"

"My visual acuity is quite prefect, Booth," Brennan said, a bit testy at his sudden appearance.

Sighing, Angela felt a flush of frustration as the conversation was not going on as she had anticipated it. Pointing at the FBI agent, Angela said, "Ahh, Booth, your ears must've been burning. We were just talking about you."

"Oh?" Booth said, sitting up straighter in his chair. "You two telling tales behind my back again? Whatever it was, I didn't do it."

Brennan flushed a bit at his words and did her best to shoot Angela a look of warning. However, her hormones getting the better of her, Angela shook her head.

"That's not what I heard, G-man. I heard you did it, and by it, I mean a 'her'. I heard you came back with a little souvenir from Afghanistan?" Angela asked quite bluntly It took a minute for Booth to know what she was talking about, and so Angela took pity on him as she clarified, at almost the exact time Booth flushed as he realized to whom she was referring. "I heard the rumor that you started playing with Barbie dolls again while you were gone," Angela had said.

Ignoring the slight jib at his girlfriend, Booth forced away his nature inclination to be embarrassed and smiled as he said, "Oh, yeah. Hannah." He then turned to Brennan and said, "That didn't take long—what'd you do, call her as soon as you left the Mall?"

Brennan flushed a deeper red as she said, "I had my reasons."

"Yeah, and now I've got mine," she stood up from the table and pointed at the two of them. "You're gonna have to forgive me because I'd only planned on telling Bren this, but I figure I can get to Jack before either of you two spill your guts, so here goes. I'm seven weeks pregnant. Ergo, that means I've somewhat hormonal at the moment and have a very low tolerance for BS. So, here goes—"

Both Booth and Brennan stared at the graphic artist's confession open-mouthed and were too stunned to say anything as she continued.

Pointing at Booth, she said, "Look, Bren has spent the past seven months dreaming about you—and I don't just mean the hot, sexy steamy role-playing dreams where you two play doctor, either, although I'm sure she had her fair share of those—and don't think I won't want details later, Bren. But, she had those dreams, G-man, because she's in love with you, you big oaf."

Turning sharply to face Brennan, Angela wagged a finger at her friend as she said, "And, as for you, just because you got a bit of bad news because Booth shacked up when he was deployed—so what, Bren? I've said it before, and I'll say it again. You two have been in a relationship longer than most married couples I know. This little escapade with the Barbie doll was just that—some fun in the sun while you got your head screwed on straight in the jungles of southeast Asia. So, now you're both back, he loves you, you love him, so be a woman and grow a set, huh? Go get your man."

The pair, which had watched Angela open mouthed since she'd made her confession about her pregnancy continued to have a look of shock and awe on their faces—no easy task to render someone like Booth or Brennan, let alone the two of them, completely speechless in one foul swoop.

"Ugggh," Angela said, suddenly feeling queasy as she completed her rant. "I think I need to use the bathroom again." She stopped and looked up at the pair, "Okay, so we're good here, yeah?" Nodding at Booth, Angela said, "So, you've got a call to make to Baghdad Barbie—" She then looked at Brennan and said, "And, you need to go change into something sexy, because that whole Lara Croft getup really isn't going to work for what I guaran-damn-tee you both better happen once G-man here brooms his desert hook-up."

Taking a couple of dollars out of her purse, Angela tossed them on the table. "So, you can thank me later. Right now, I need to use the facilities and then go tell Jack the news. Ummm, yeah, so I think that'll do it for right about now—"

Turning sharply on her feet, Angela headed towards the diner's restroom.

After a moment of silence, Booth finally broke the spell when he asked, "What in the hell was that?"

"Ummm, besides Angela being extremely presumptuous, due, I suppose, to the fact that her hormonal levels are out of whack because she's gestating?" Brennan asked rather calmly for the bizarre conversation that she'd just witnessed. Taking another few seconds, she slowly shook her head and said, "I'm not certain."

"Wow," Booth said, trying to awkwardly laugh off the implications of Angela's words. "I knew pregnant women could get crazy, but where'd she come up with half of that stuff, huh?"

Slowly, realizing that she couldn't miss a second opportunity—the one for which she'd thank her best friend for giving her at last—as she'd wasted the one she'd had earlier at the Reflecting Pool, Brennan said, "She's not crazy, Booth."

"No, 'course not," Booth agreed. "I'm just saying she was spouting some pretty whacked out stuff there, Bones. I mean, implying that you love me…that's funny, right?"

"No," Brennan said slowly, reaching out and placing her hand lightly on his arm. Booth immediately tensed and the feigned levity on his face gave way to seriousness as she said, "No, it's not funny, Booth."

"Bones," he asked. "What are you saying?"

"What I should've told you at the Reflecting Pool—what I should've said to you that night at the Hoover," Brennan said slowly, her quiet voice growing more confident with each word she spoke, her decision to lay her proverbial cards on the table between them once and for all. "Although Angela's sentiments were a bit…excited…she's right."

"About what?" he could scarcely breathe.

"Everything," Brennan said softly as her eyes met his in a firm stare. "Everything, Booth. So, if you have a minute, I think we _really _need to talk."

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	26. That Time Brennan Said No

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 26: That Time Brennan Said No<p>

* * *

><p>Brennan found herself standing in the hospital room of a woman over whom she had extremely conflicted feelings.<p>

_I'm not even certain why I'm really here_, Brennan thought to herself. _I mean, I am_ —_I do know why I'm really here. I'm here because Booth asked me to stop by to check on Hannah because he was going to be late picking up Parker from his soccer game and didn't want her to be alone_ —_so he asked me to come and 'keep her company' until he got here. Damn it, Booth. I have three PhDs, and because of you, I've been reduced to a glorified babysitter for your girlfriend. _

Doing her best to keep up a casual conversation with Hannah wasn't proving to be too challenging as Brennan let her mind wander. She tried to, as unobtrusively as was possible, sneak a glance at the clock to find out how much longer she would be confined to the unenviable task with which her partner had saddled her.

_God, _Brennan mentally groaned. _It's going to be at least another half-hour before he gets here, and I can leave and get back to the lab_ —

"Listen, I get it," Hannah was saying after Brennan had made a polite inquiry about Hannah's current state of being, and she'd asked a question to which the forensic anthropologist had only half been listening. "You saved my life. And, I'm very grateful," Hannah said with an indulgent nod in Brennan's direction. "But, traditionally, when you visit someone in the hospital, you bear gifts."

Her head snapped to focus fully on Hannah as the blonde waited in expectation. _What? Do you want me to run to the gift shop and purchase something for you? While I find it highly unlikely that you're in need of anything that's a basic necessity since Booth is always coming to visit you with multiple gift bags, it you want something, all you need to do is ask me. You're usually a direct person, so why all this prevarication? If you want something, ask for it. It's both a waste of your time and mine to do otherwise, and it's hardly desirable to be so nefarious about things, Hannah_—Brennan thought as a slight frown played on the edge of her mouth.

When Booth's girlfriend still didn't clarify her prior statement as to what she really wanted, Brennan was at a slight loss. Hoping to prompt some directness from the usually quite forthright journalist, Brennan nodded as she fell back on her well-worn survival tactic of using anthropological minutiae to get her through uncomfortably long silences. "Well," she started to explain, "that custom began as a replacement for religious sacrifice."

Hannah nodded again, suddenly deciding to take the direct approach that Brennan had mentally been pleading for her to take in their discussion. "As a way to get the gods to take mercy on the sick person."

_Ahh, yes, _Brennan thought to herself. _Now, you're an expert on topics of a cultural anthropological meaning? Somehow I doubt that you've got the more seminal works on religious symbolism and ritual, but perhaps you're more widely read in Geertz and Bourdieu than I'd previously been led to believe. Unlikely, but I suppose it's possible_ —

Shaking her head a bit, Brennan finally said, "Yes. But, I don't believe in that."

Tilting her head at the forensic anthropologist, the journalist replied, "But, you do believe in cultural traditions."

_I suppose that next you're going to be throwing quotes from Malinowski and Boas at me_? Brennan wondered.

Shaking her head slightly, Brennan conceded the point —at least, from an academic standpoint as she replied, "Of course, but —"

"So?" Hannah said expectantly. "Since I'm not above a little supplication every once in a while, maybe…you should give me your sunglasses."

Hannah nodded at the well-worn glasses that sat on the top of Brennan's head. Brennan's eyes narrowed as she unconsciously moved a hand to her head to reassure that her glasses were still where she'd left them. Tilting her head in Hannah's direction, Brennan blinked at her several times to see if the woman was joking or not. When Booth's girlfriend continued to wait in expectation for Brennan's response, his partner suddenly got a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she realized that Hannah wasn't joking.

_She's serious_, Brennan thought. _She's actually serious? She wants me to give her my sunglasses? What the hell?_

"Uhhhh," Brennan stalled for time. "Seriously?" she asked, even though she knew what the answer would be.

"Yes," Hannah said, smiling as she extended a greedy hand towards Brennan. "You can give me your sunglasses as your gift to me."

_You've got to be kidding me_, Brennan thought. _Really?_

Taking a step backward, Brennan shook her head and said, "No."

"What?" Hannah said as she suddenly frowned. "But, Temperance, I just explained why you should give them to me —"

"No," Brennan said with a sharp shake of her head. "First, I have no interest in supplicating you, as that would indicate my acceptance of your assertion that you're in a more dominant position than I am in our culture—and you're not. And, while your very basic reading structuralist theory from Claude Levi-Strauss' work on gift exchanges, reciprocity, and symbolic exchange—as influenced by French sociologist Marcel Mauss—is basically correct, it's still a very, very simplistic understanding that doesn't impress me. Second, you explained why you felt justified in asking me for a present. However, instead of taking the honorable stance and merely asking me for something specific because you desired it, you've taken the manipulative stance of trying to persuade me to give you one of my belongings." Brennan narrowed her eyes and said, "And, while your infantile attempt to use your very basic grasp of anthropological theory to legitimate your manipulation was amusing, I should warn you that it won't be successful."

Hannah stared open-mouthed at Brennan as she said, "Temperance, I —"

"No," Brennan said with another shake of her head. She then crossed her arms in a clearly defensive posture. "No, I refuse to be manipulated, Hannah. If you wanted something, and simply had come straight out and asked me for it —instead of trying to gain power and influence over me by demanding me to voluntarily give you one of my belongings —well, it would've achieved two of your goals: a.) I probably would've had enough respect for you to comply with your request and go to the gift shop to procure your desired item for you and b.) I wouldn't have felt a severe reduction in my personal opinion of you."

"I'm not trying to manipulate you, Temperance," Hannah said. "I don't know where you got that impression, but —"

"I think that you've been trying to take advantage of me since you came back to D.C.," Brennan suddenly said, a bit of the bitter truth that she'd been struggling with since her return from Maluku bursting through to the surface —despite her best attempts to keep it buried for Booth's sake.

However, as Hannah narrowed her eyes, Brennan knew that the die had been cast, in the words of Julius Caesar.

"Do you have something that you want to say to me, Temperance?" Hannah asked.

"Yes," Brennan nodded. "I do."

"Then, by all means —while it's just us two girls, speak your mind," Hannah told her.

"I've worked hard to maintain an amiable relationship with you because of Booth," Brennan began. "He's important to me, and since you're important to him, I've worked hard to support your relationship. But, I find that in the face of such glaringly manipulative behavior —and, by the way, I have to admit that even I'm surprised at what was a fairly shallow and materialistic manipulation in your attempt to procure my sunglasses —I can no longer pretend that I support such an acquaintanceship.

"What are you saying, Temperance?" Hannah asked. "Are you saying that you're tired of trying to be friendly to me just because I'm Seeley's girlfriend."

"I find," Brennan began, "that the bonds of friendship can only go so far. I care a great deal for Booth, but I refuse to put myself in a position where I have to be subjected to such treatment. It's one thing to be amiable to you for his sake, but I can't stomach such treatment from my replacement."

"Your replacement?" Hannah said, sitting up a bit straighter in bed. "What do you mean?"

"I'm uncertain how much Booth's told you about our relationship," Brennan said tentatively.

"He said that you were partners," Hannah said. "Partners…and good friends."

_God, Booth_ —Brennan mentally sighed. _This is all your fault, you know that? None of this would've happened if you hadn't asked me to come here tonight. But, fine_ —_since the topic's been broached, fine._

"He never told you that he fell in love with me?" Brennan asked.

Hannah paled a bit at Brennan's words, and as shallow and as petty as it sounded, for the first time since she'd entered the hospital room, Brennan felt a bit better about things.

"No," Hannah said after a few pregnant seconds. "No —he never said anything about that."

"Before he left for his deployment last year," Brennan said, "he told me that he loved me and wanted to establish a long-term monogamous romantic relationship with me."

Hannah's eyes snapped to meet Brennan's as she asked, "If that's true, then why is he with me now?"

"Because," Brennan said. "At the time, I wasn't ready to say yes to him —and he said he had to move on, and…because I love him, I let him go."

The words were out of Brennan's lips before she even realized what she said.

_I love him_, Brennan mentally repeated to herself. _I love him_ —_I love Booth._

Hannah continued to stare at Brennan, a look of clear disbelief on her face.

"You love Seeley?" she finally managed to ask.

Nodding, a bit dumbfounded at the realization, Brennan replied, "I do —I…I love Booth." She blinked several times, still trying to figure out what to make of the realization. After a few seconds, she suddenly knew that she didn't want to come to grasp with such an important realization in front of Booth's girlfriend —and her replacement.

"I have to go —" Brennan said as she suddenly turned sharply on her heels.

"Temperance," Hannah called out. "Please —wait."

"No," Brennan said as she shook her head. "No…I'm done waiting —waiting was what got me into this mess in the first place. I…because I was distracted, because I wasn't ready to deal with the ramifications of my feelings for Booth, I've made a terrible mistake —one that you've benefited from, by the way —but, I'll be damned if I have to confront the significance of those acts in front of my replacement. I…I won't do that. And, more importantly, I don't have to —so, goodbye, Hannah."

And, with a sharp grasp of her arm, Brennan opened the door to Hannah's hospital room, walked out, and left a stunned journalist merely gapping in her wake.

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	27. That Time Brennan Pursued Booth

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p>Ch 27: That Time Brennan Pursued Booth<p>

* * *

><p>She had to keep her hands busy. It was the only thing that was keeping her from crossing the span of her office in about three very long strides, knocking Booth off the edge of her couch where he sat propped up staring at her, and seeing what would finally happen.<p>

"So, you never said how it ended up with Rebecca," she said, trying to maintain as calm and as measured a voice as she could without letting any of her inner turmoil boil over.

Her conversation with Booth's on-again/off-again ex from earlier in the day was still spinning in her mind. _For the past year, they've been messing around—for the past __year__. And, more over, I can't believe that Rebecca was just so damn…casual about it! How could anyone be that dismissive…that calm about any discussion involving Booth and sex…and having sex with Booth? It just doesn't make any sense. How could she—how could she do that...treat it as if it were no big deal? How could she just be like that? I don't get it…I mean, she all but told me that they've been meeting for random sexual hookups throughout the past year. It's no wonder he's been wound as tightly as he has been since he broke up with Tessa last year if his only sexual outlet is an inconsistent partner like Rebecca. _

Standing at her desk, she purposely looked away from Booth as she shuffled some pages within a grey Jeffersonian file folder and tried not to appear _too_ interested in Booth's personal life.

"Well, yeah," Booth eventually replied. "It ended. The only time we'll ever spend together is with Parker."

Daring to look up at him, Brennan snuck a glance at her partner. _She's gone? Really? Just like that? Really?_

Needing a bit more specific clarification, Brennan asked, "You sure that's what you want?" As she waited for his answer, she again busied herself by gathering stacks of paper and other file folders in her hands and haphazardly trying to make it appear as if she were doing something productive with them.

Booth's answer came almost too easily, as if it were a well-rehearsed litany that he'd finally decided on_—_and perhaps repeated to himself as a type of rationalization_—_when he began to answer the question she'd ask of him.

"You know what, Bones? It might be all anthropology to you, but there are certain people that you just can't sleep with," he said, shaking his head slightly.

He words catching her attention, Brennan stopped fidgeting with her stack of papers and file folders, clutched them to her chest, and walked over to stand before Booth, almost as if she didn't even know what was happening as her body moved without any commands from her brain.

"I mean, you can pretend that it's just sex. You can lie to yourself, and you can say that it's all good_—_" he paused for only the briefest of seconds, making a slight face before continuing. "But, ummmm, there's just_—_there's too many strings and...and too much at stake, you know?" Brennan swallowed once as felt her throat get entirely too dry for her own comfort. When he finally lifted his chocolate brown eyes to meet hers in askance, Brennan felt her heart skip a beat as she was unable to look away from his gaze and clung to it was a renewed vigor that surprised her. "Too much to lose," he finally finished.

For the beat of a moment's silent, they held each other's stare and finally, Brennan nodded. _What are you saying here, Booth? I mean…what are you __really__ saying here? _"Yeah," she finally said softly. "I can see that."

At her words, Booth made another face as he shrugged and stood up. Gesturing with his hands, he began to smile at her as he said, "It's over, you know?" Brennan's already rapid heart rate increased as he moved closer, and she thought that she could smell the faint scent of menthol and Ivory soap in the air as he somehow closed the distance between them. Placing his hands lightly on his hips, Booth said, "I'd appreciate, you know, your support in that."

Almost stuttering as she looked up at him, Brennan nodded, "I will." _And, much, __much__ more if that's what you're really telling me you want from me, Booth. Just give me a sign here—tell me what you really want from me. _Allowing herself to let her gaze linger over the outline of his taut musculature that was visible through the thin grey cotton of his worn t-shirt, she quickly bounced her eyes back to his_—_eyes that almost seemed to be watching her with amusement clearly present at what he was seeing. Smiling at him, she added lamely, "And if you should slip, I will…keep my mouth shut about it."

"Thank you," Booth said with a playful grin. He then quickly added, "But, I mean, it's not like I'm gonna_—_"

_You're not going to what, Booth? Go back to Rebecca if you start something else on the rebound with someone else? Is that what you're trying to say…because, you know what? If you are…I think I'm okay with that for a couple of reasons. First, because I don't believe in rebounds. And, second, even if I did—for you, I don't think I'd mind being the proverbial 'rebound girl', _Brennan thought to herself as a spreading warmth beginning to unfurl throughout her body.

"No, I mean… with anybody," she finally managed to quickly utter. "I'm sure Rebecca's not your only option for satisfying your biological urges." _There…I said it…it's out._

Booth tilted his head at her. "What do you mean there, Bones?" He took a step closer to her, and as he did so, clearly invading her space, Brennan took another deep breath and felt his scent assault her nostrils in an even stronger and more pleasing way.

"I mean_—_" she could barely stammer, unable to look away as she felt a rush begin to thunder in her ears.

"Yeah?" he asked, taking another step forward.

_Oh, who am I kidding? _she finally thought as she let the stack of file folders that she'd been holding fall to the ground in a sharp _whoosh_ of papers. _Screw it._

Unable to help herself, Brennan hungrily slammed her body up against his, her eager lips trying to seek out his as if her life depended on it_—_and maybe, in that moment, given the exuberance with which he meet her impatient lips…just maybe it actually did, for both of them. Twining her hands around his neck, she interlaced her fingers as she guided them back towards her coach. They fell onto it in a tangle of limbs, but somehow managed to keep their lips in contact with one another. At some point during the kiss, Brennan lost her status as the aggressor when Booth's tongue began to thrust deeply into her mouth, caressing her tongue with a precision that was slightly scary. Opening his mouth wider, he pressed into her further, and not until that very moment did he realize how desperate he was for the taste of her. Not to be outdone, she allowed her tongue to twirl against his in a fluid movement as their saliva intermingled, and Brennan realized that her memory of how wonderful he'd tasted hadn't been unfairly prejudiced by a haze of tequila that settled over that one pertinent memory.

After another minute_—_when a very persistent and unpleasant stabbing pain in her chest, combined with her increasing lightheadedness, reminded Brennan that she needed oxygen to breathe_—_she reluctantly pulled apart from Booth. Moving only as far away as was required to obtain the much needed air, she gasped against his cheek, warm puffs of breath falling across his stubbled chin as she struggled to make sense of what was happening.

Tilting his head at her, a playful smile on his face, Booth finally managed to ask, "What...was…that?"

Giving him a lopsided grin, she replied, "I'm…not…sure."

"Then," he gasped as he quickly gulped down some more air. "I think we should do it again to find out."

"Definitely," Brennan said as she leaned in again and immediately attached her lips to his mouth, catching him slightly off-guard with the haste of her movement.

Another couple of minutes passed, and this time when they parted, Brennan had more than the sting of Booth's kiss to remind her that he was just as excited by this turn of events as she was. She could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing against her thigh, and for some reason she couldn't quite understand, it made her feel even more out of control_—And that feels good_, Brennan thought to herself. _It feels damn good._

Reluctantly, nodding at him, she said, "We need to get out of here."

"Why?" Booth said, a playful chuckle still evident in her voice.

"Because," Brennan gulped. "If we don't leave right now, I'm going to undo the buttons on your jeans so that we can have sex right here on my couch with the entire lab watching."

Blinking at her a few times, the meaning of her words finally registered in Booth's head as he said, "Let's take my car."

"Fine," she said as she quickly stood up and moved to grab her keys and purse. "But, we're not going back to your place. Let's go to mine, okay?"

"Why?" Booth said, frowning a bit.

"Because," Brennan said as she waggled a finger at him. "You probably haven't even changed the sheets since you bedded Rebecca, and you can chastise me all you want, but for what I plan on doing to you in fairly short order, I would feel very much better about it while in the process of defiling a fresh set of bed linens."

Booth gave her a toothy grin and then quickly followed her out of her office once she hastily shut off the light and almost ran to the back exit of the lab. By the time they'd made it into the Jeffersonian's parking substructure, Brennan couldn't stand it anymore. Booth was still a few seconds behind her, and she managed to catch him slightly unawares as she jumped out from behind a parking garage pylon and threw herself up against him so that he was pinned to the side of his SUV.

A new round kissing began, and by the time she finally pulled back, she was smiling at him as she asked, "Was Rebecca the reason why this hasn't happened in the past year?"

"What do you mean?" he finally managed to mutter, his brain clearly elsewhere.

"She told me that you'd slept with her off and on about four times over the past year," Brennan muttered. "And, since that's about the time that you broke things off with Tessa_—_I just wanted to know…was Rebecca the reason why this didn't happen between you and me before now?"

"No," Booth said instantly. He then stopped, a bit of reason coming into his mind's eye as he shook his head and amended, "Wait…I dunno_—_maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Yeah," Booth nodded. "That…and, I didn't know you wanted anything to happen with us."

"So, you think you have enough evidence to the contrary on that last part there, or what, Agent Booth?" Brennan said as she playfully traced a finger across his square jaw line with a featherlight touch that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up in a good way.

"Get in the car," he suddenly growled as he pulled away and gave her one last quick kiss before heading to the other side. "We've got somewhere to be."

"And something to do?" Brennan chuckled as she opened the SUV's passenger door.

"Not _something_, Bones," Booth said as she grinned at her. "I've got _someone _to do…and several times if she plays her cards right."

"You know, Booth," Brennan said, as she gave him a very sly smile. "If I'd been having a sexual relationship with you over the past year, I don't see how I would've lasted the first day without breaking that little record of a paltry four times of having had intercourse with you."

"Well, Bones," Booth said as he hastily pulled his door shut, pulled on his seat belt, and started the engine with a loud roar as his partner followed his example. "You're in luck because we'll just have to see if you're as good as your word or not."

"Four times, huh?" she asked as he began to navigate their way out of the parking garage.

Nodding his head, Booth said, "Yup_—_so it seems."

"I definitely think I can top that then, Booth," Brennan said with a completely evil smile. "_Definitely._"

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	28. That Time Booth Said Brennan Missed Him

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

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><p>Ch 28: That Time Booth Said Brennan Missed Him<p>

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><p>For some reason, some reason he didn't really want to admit to anyone, least of all himself, Booth was feeling in a very aggressive mood.<p>

_God, what's she doing to me? _he thought to himself as he listened to Brennan share details of the case that she had used as an excuse to lure him to the Jeffersonian on the pretext of a legitimate cause. _I haven't seen her for a few weeks, and suddenly, I'm back with her for ten minutes, and I'm already going nuts. I missed her, damn it—I missed her...and she had to miss me, too, right? I mean, that's why she called me out of the blue with this case, right? There was no reason for her to call me about it except to use it as an excuse to see me, but why won't she admit it? It's not like it's a big deal. God, she's so damn…infuriating!_

Suddenly, his ire getting the better of him, Booth couldn't help himself as he answered her question about what to do about the strange case of the three mysterious bone fragments that she'd found at some golf course she'd been called to by the NTSB with a bit of snippiness in his voice. "I don't know. Try the PGA," he finally suggested to her with a smirk as he punctuated his words with a sharp tap of his knuckles on the edge of the examination table.

Brennan, not one to be intimidated, merely stared at him in response.

Suddenly, Booth gave her a knowing smile as he tilted his head at her and said, "Uh huh. You know you've done a couple of cases without me… and you miss me."

Instantly, Brennan had a ready retort for him. "Zack misses you," she corrected him. "Not me." _Because even if I did miss you, and I'm not saying I did, but even if I did miss you, there's no way in hell that I would ever admit that little factoid to you, you arrogant, smirking, infuriating, alpha-male! _Brennan thought.

"Zack and I don't even talk," Booth responded. _Come on, Bones. What's the big deal? Just say it. You missed me._

With a small shrug, Brennan said, "He seems to think it's a male bonding ritual."

Leaning in a bit closer to her over the edge of the Bone Room examination's table, Booth quickly countered, "Maybe he's right."

Not one to be outdone by Booth, Brennan shook her head, only stopping to quickly glance up at his eyes for a few seconds as she said, "No, he's not."

His already aggressive mood incensed by her stubborn refusal, Booth pursed his lips as he felt his ire raised tenfold. Quickly, he retorted with an arch of his eyebrow, "Could be."

"You told him that so you wouldn't have to talk to him," Brennan quickly pointed out. _Ha! Top that one, Booth._

"Well," Booth responded with his own jaw growing tight at their verbal tennis match of pointed banter, "it was nicer then shooting him." _Game, match point, Bones._

Her eyes blazing in angry fury, Brennan pursed her lips together into a thin line. Keeping both her hands on the edge of the examination table, lest she does something that they both might come to regret, Brennan's jaw tightened as she muttered a simple response to concede his point in clear frustration. _Bastard_, Brennan tried to communicate to her partner with the irritation that was clearly ablaze in her eyes. _Fine. You win that one. But, don't expect to win the next one, Booth. _

Taking a breath to try to calm herself, Brennan hoped her nostrils weren't flaring in anger, although she knew they probably were. Attempting to regain a calm center, Brennan took a few precious seconds to gather herself as she looked away from him and down at the table in front of her. Then, in a very measured voice, she said, "Goodman has ordered me to investigate the other extra body."

However, as soon as he saw her clenching her hands just out of sight below the edge of the examination table, Booth knew that Brennan was trying to calm down. And, for some reason, he wasn't quite ready to let their belligerent energy of their bickering go quiet yet. _Nope_, Booth thought to himself as he contemplated how best to bait Brennan again. _I'm not ready to let this be over yet by a long shot—at least, not until you admit that you missed me and that's why I'm here right now._

"Well, then, you better get on that," he smirked again at her, knowing that by flashing his arrogant grin at her that it was almost the same as waving a red flag at a hostile bull. But, just to be certain that her attempt to remain calm and measured would fail, Booth added, "Next time you know, you miss me pick up the phone call me we'll do lunch or something."

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, another surge of strong emotion flashed in Brennan's eyes as her paltry attempts to remain unruffled by Booth's words vanished in a flash of futility. "I do not miss you!" she snapped, playing into her partner's hands and the trap he'd so expertly laid, her loud tone and tense body language conveying how strongly she felt about a topic that she vehemently continued to protest just a bit too much if it were actually the truth.

_Me thinks you doth protest a bit too much there, Bones, _Booth thought. A feeling of pleasurable warmth at the thought began to spread throughout his body as he grinned at her. _Yeah, you missed me—you totally missed me._

"Yeah," Booth said as he nodded his head at her and verbalized some of the thoughts that had just echoed in his head. "You miss me. C'mon."

Shaking her head, Brennan continued to protest, and in so doing, just made Booth even more insistent. "I do not miss you!" she repeated, her tone loud, rough, and a bit too raw for the truth of her protest to be correct.

Baited by her stubborn refusal, Booth leaned in towards her again, as he pointed at her with his hand, "Say it."

"No," Brennan countered.

"Yes," Booth said, this time he being the one becoming even further incensed by her obstinacy.

"No," Brennan said as she shook her head. "It's not true, and I'm not saying it." Placing both hands on her hips, she said, "And, there's nothing you can do about it."

"Say it," Booth commanded her again, leaning in closer towards her, this time so that there faces were only a separated by a few irksome inches of air.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No!"

And, instead of responding with another monosyllabic answer, Booth wasn't really certain what was happening as some part of him seemed to give his body the command to lean forward and press his lips to Brennan.

They met with a hard force, the pressure exerted by him probably more than he'd have used if he was actually thinking about what he was actually doing. The inner dialogue of the conflicting voices in Booth's head was actually quite interesting in their subsequent response to the fact that he had planted his lips on his partners in the Bone Room of her lab at the Jeffersonian.

_What in the hell just happened?_

_Holy shit, I'm kissing Bones._

_Oh, God—she's going to break my arm._

But, at the exact second that some rational part of Booth's brain started to take control again—probably the last of the three voices who was afraid that at the very best he'd come away from this harebrained idea with a black eye—and, at the very worst, he'd come way with at least one significant broken bone—well, then something interesting happened. Booth had expected Brennan to reach out and grab the lapels of his suit jacket. But, instead of her using them to push him off of her, she actually reached out, dug her fists into the material of his jacket, and yanked him closer to her. The pair stumbled backward, past the edge of the examination table, so that Booth backed her up against the wall of drawers with his warm body firmly pressed against hers.

In that moment, Brennan inhaled his scent deeply. The pungent aroma of his sweat mixed with faint odors of his shaving cream (mint), some type of product he used to style his style his hair into place (icy menthol), and the spray starch of his suit collar (lemon) all mixed together to tickle her nose. Brennan opened her mouth wider as she hastily thrust her tongue in between his soft lips, afraid she'd be unable to answer the question as to what Booth _really _tasted like beyond a hazy recollection of tequila, fear, and regret. This time, desperate as she to enjoy the taste of him for as long as she could steal away the moment, the more she tasted of him, the more she wanted—no, the more she _needed_ to have. Oxygen became a secondary concern to the pair as Brennan continued to plunge her tongue in and out of her partner's mouth, letting it dance sweetly across the slick surface of his inner cheek and down across the smooth hardness of his teeth, before reversing course to caress the slippery roughness of his tongue's surface.

For Booth's part, he had no intention of ending the kiss any time soon as soon as he realized how eager Brennan seemed to be to continue it. Indeed, he reveled as he felt the two of them falling into each other as everything else fell away in that moment. However, necessity finally jerked him out of their delicious reverie when he felt Brennan's hands sneak underneath his suit jacket, go to the waistband of his pants, and begin to tug at the tails of his shirt that he'd tucked in. Hissing a bit a her touch, at almost the same moment he nudged her knees apart with his thigh, Booth knew that what he was doing might be considered sending her mixed messages. Thus, reluctantly, he forced himself to pull away slightly from her, even though it nearly killed him to do it, hoping that the few inches he'd finally managed to put between them would be enough distance for rationality to return to them.

"What…was…that?" he finally managed to ask, looking at her as he struggled for breath, even though he almost became undone as he saw her bright blue eyes darkened with lust and desire as she looked back at him. _Oh, God, _he thought to himself, knowing how much trouble he was rapidly in in that moment. _I want her…and she wants me. Want you, Bones_—

"Me showing you that maybe I did miss you," she finally managed to mutter through stunted gasps of breath.

Unable to help himself at her final concession of the point he'd been trying to drive home when they'd started the crazy exchange, Booth pressed back in after her, and Brennan welcomed him with eager arms as she soon found herself slammed back up against the wall of storage drawers.

"Knew it," he murmured as he buried his head into the crook of her neck and began alternatively to lick and suck the soft pressure point of her throbbing pulse that was beating erratically in that moment. "I knew it," he repeated in between kisses. "Knew you missed me."

"I did," she said as her hands came back up underneath his suit jacket as she racked her nails across his back. "And, you missed me, too. Admit it."

"Every day," he moaned as he felt her knees nudging his own once more. "Every damn day."

It what was sure to be an embarrassing moment if anyone walked in, for a split second rationality burned brightly as Brennan realized where they were.

"Booth—" she moaned into him.

"_Mmmmppphhh_—" came the mumbled response as his own hands had drifted to the buttons of her blue lab coat, somehow managed to pluck the buttons free, and moved underneath the hem of her blouse.

"Oh, God, Booth—" she moaned at his touch. "Wait—"

"What?" he finally managed to mumble, although he didn't still his hands as they eagerly sought out her warm skin.

"Not here," she moaned. "Someone could come in."

"Don't care," he groaned into her ear. And, somewhat uncharacteristically, in that moment, he really didn't.

"Not here," she moaned again. "Ummm…not here." _God, Booth…please back off just a little bit, just for a moment, or I really am going to let you do me right in the Bone Room…_

"Where?" he finally managed to mumble into her ear, his voice a velvety whisper as he moved his mouth upwards and began to nibble on her earlobe. "And, it better be someplace close then."

"Office…" she groaned in a single breath. "My office has a couch, and the door locks, and there are no security cameras there."

"Perfect," Booth said as he finally pulled away from her. "But, now, Bones—right now."

Pausing only barely long enough to make certain her clothing was in fairly respectable shape, Brennan merely gave him a brief nod before she all but bolted from the Bone Room. Allowing her a thirty-second head start, Booth took three deep breaths as he tried to calm down long enough to bluff his way past anyone he might encounter between the Bone Room and his partner's office. As soon as he hit thirty, he was out the door.

Fortunately, for the pair, neither the forensic anthropologist nor the FBI agent encountered anyone as they made their way towards Brennan's office, which was also, mercifully empty when they encountered it. Brennan barely had enough time to pull her blinds and spin on her heels before Booth was there in her doorway, a very predatory look in his eyes as he paused only long enough to shut and bolt the door behind him. Not to be outdone, Brennan refused to back down in this, as in everything with Booth, as she matched him step for step.

But, ultimately it was Booth who pulled her towards him in a rough yank as he grabbed her arm and pressed his firm body tightly against hers. After that, things became hazy for the pair as random pieces of both of their clothing began to hastily scatter about her office.

And, just before he pulled her naked body down on top of his, Booth gave her a lopsided grin as he whispered in a rough voice, "Say it again."

Raising her head to meet his darkened gaze with a happy and hungry look of her own just before she moved to resume kissing him, Brennan smiled as she said, "I missed you."

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><p>-TBC-<p> 


	29. That Time Booth Commented on Escorts

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

A/N: I think this is a first for this series…back-to-back chapters. Don't get used to it. It just so happened that the muse latched onto Booth's one-liner about escorts and wouldn't let go…or even let it rest for later in the series. So, just in case you missed it, obviously, this is a sequel to Ch 28: "That Time Booth Said Brennan Missed Him." Now, without further adieu—

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><p>Ch 29: That Time Booth Commented on Escorts<p>

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><p>To say that the day had not gone in any way, shape, or form like she'd expected it to was somewhat of a mild understatement. Her lips were still bee-stung from his kisses, her cheeks were still rubbed raw by the frenzied caresses of his jaw against her soft skin, and certain muscle groupings in her thighs and lower legs ached in a very pleasant way. In a word, Dr. Temperance Brennan was satisfied—<em>quite <em>satisfied, if she were allowed to use two words, given the stolen moments that she'd had with Booth earlier in her office that morning.

But, now, standing next to him as the demands of work required their full attention, despite the advancing hour of the day, Brennan found herself with an unusual conundrum. She not only didn't _want _to work, but she was finding it increasingly difficult to do so. _You aren't helping things, either, Booth_, she mentally groaned. _How do you expect me to stay focused knowing what you feel like now, knowing what you sound like when you say my name in a moan like you did this morning, and knowing what you taste like? I'm a very exceptional person in many ways, but I'm not __that__ good. I'm just not. And, I think I might even be willing to admit that fact if I didn't know that it would stoke you're already huge ego to even higher proportions._

As Zack finished talking, Booth purposely turned his gaze away from Brennan's assistant to his partner for more reasons than one. _God, Bones_—he thought. _I can't take much more of this. I mean, I know we gotta do what we gotta do while there's a murder to solve and all, and we're on the clock, but geez…you're killing me here_—_especially standing there next to me where I can smell you. I mean, I've smelled you before and knew you smelled good, but now? God help me…all I want to do is pull you over and bury my face in your hair so that I can just wrap myself up in that sweet vanilla and amber thing that you've got going on over there and die a happy man. But, no_—_instead of doing what I want to do when I want to do it…since I already played that card when it really needed to be played today, I've gotta be a good boy and behave and talk to your junior squint over there by not talking to him. God help me…_

"Only two people have had access to this machine in the past seven years," Booth nodded at his partner as he really conveyed the pertinent information to her mini squint. "A city maintenance foreman and a city maintenance worker by the name of Ray Sparks. Sparks has got a jacket so…" He stopped as an idea suddenly popped into his head. _Now __that__ is a good idea…huh. Why didn't I think of that before? Hmmm… now the only question is…will she go for it? _Booth lifted his gaze to meet his partner's eyes as he smiled at her. _Yeah, of course she will. _"What do you say, huh? You want to come with me to go talk to him?" He punctuated his offer with a small slap of one hand against the other and flashed her another grin.

Already, the results of Booth ignoring Brennan's assistant had paid off, as Zack hastily swallowed a smile to keep his obvious pleasure from manifesting itself too prominently in the direct presence of the FBI agent. However, he did lean in towards his mentor a bit with a knowing look in his eye as he said in a low tone of voice, "Told you." Nodding once to confirm his words, and trying miserably to bit back that smile that was threatening to crack his normally stoic face, but obviously failing, Zack added, "It's a guy thing."

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at Zack, Brennan nodded to Booth, "Ummmm, yes. I'd like to come."

_Ha, ha! _Booth mentally yelled in happiness. _I knew it. I so knew_—_do I know you or what, Bones?_

Unable to help himself, Booth moved towards his partner and smiled at her. "Alright," he nodded at Brennan as he gave her a light push towards his SUV, scurried around her, and opened the car down for her. "Here we go."

Swallowing one of her own smiles at Booth's exuberance, Brennan turned her attention briefly back to her graduate student. "Let Angela do the escort matching," she told him. "I have something a lot more interesting for you and Hodgins."

As Booth waited for Brennan to get into the car, the forensic anthropologist knew she was the only one who heard his muttered comment when next he spoke with a slightly confused look on his face.

"What's more interesting then escorts?" he asked, shaking his head as he tried to make sense of Brennan's words to her intern as his hand lingered on her door while he waited for her to finish speaking with Zack.

Temporarily ignoring his comment, Brennan forced herself to concentrate on Zack to give him the requisite instructions to conduct the relevant experiment using the wood chipper to determine a potential dispersal pattern so they might be able to locate more bone fragments. Once she'd sent him on his way, happier than she'd seen him in weeks since Booth's unexpected absence in their case work, Brennan quickly got into the SUV. Climbing into the passenger's seat, she pulled the door shut with a heavy _thud_, locked the door, and when she turned to see Booth staring at her with his infuriating smug smirk of his, she did what an normal, self-respecting woman would do—she pounced.

Leaning over the center console, she grabbed for the wrinkled lapel of his rumpled suit jacket, wrapped a couple of lengths of the material around her fist, and used it to pull her towards him. When their faces were only a couple of inches apart, her light blue eyes already darkening to a pale indigo, she breathed a warm puff of air against his square jaw line as she gave him a small smirk of her own. "Escorts?"

"What?" Booth said, a sheepish grin breaking out onto his face. "It's not like I—"

"You better not," Brennan said as she leaned in to drag her soft lips across his jaw line. "I don't normally like to broadcast the fact, given its triteness, but I'm a very jealous person, Booth."

"Oh, really?" he lightly moaned as she began to lick her way from his chin to his earlobe. When she pulled the skin there lightly with a little tug of her teeth, before making a small rumbling sound in the back of her throat, Booth couldn't help himself as a full-fledged groan escaped his lips. "I never buy, Bones—just, ya know—look sometimes…when I'm bored."

"Uh huh," she said as she began to nibble on his ear. "So, you're telling me you've never had any sexual experiences with a hooker, Booth?"

At some point as she spoke, Brennan had used her grip on his jacket lapel to keep him tight against her and then used her free hand to go to creep low on his hip. It hovered there for a minute before she began to caress a firm line from his hip across his abdomen, to his navel, and down further towards his groin. When her fingers danced at the edge of his belt buckle, the warmth of her hand penetrated the suddenly far too thin fabric of his suit trousers to go straight through to the core of his very being.

_God, Bones_, Booth thought as he felt an uncomfortable pulling of the fabric tight against his groin as his arousal caused the material to stretch. _You're killing me._

"There's no way I can answer that question that won't end badly for me," he finally finished managed to gasp.

"Probably," Brennan grinned evilly. "But, I was just curious. I mean, this is the second time you've brought up the issue of call girls, and after the crush you had on the hooker when we were in LA—"

"I didn't have a crush on her," Booth quickly defended himself.

Brennan arched an eyebrow at him as she used her hand to caress him in a type of sweet torture. Knowing that she was trying to make a point, Booth yelped slightly in spite of himself. Pulling away from her slightly, he narrowed his eyes as he prayed his voice wouldn't crack again as he repeated, "I _didn't _have a crush on her."

"Better not," Brennan said again with a calm nod. This time, she let the hand grasping his jacket lapel to fall away as she went to the open neckline of his French blue dress shirt. "Hmmmm, you know what?"

"What?" he barely managed to utter, his voice already thick with desire.

"I think that I'm very glad that I got rid of that ugly tie of yours this morning in my office," Brennan murmured. "And, I'm not giving it back, by the way."

"Yeah," Booth groaned as her fingers adroitly unplucked another button on his shirt, and he rolled his head slightly at the pleasurable sensations her efforts were making him feel. "About that—"

"Nope," Brennan said with a shake of her head. "Not happening, Booth."

"You're just lucky nobody saw me leave the lab looking like I did," he murmured. "Because you got the grabbies with my suit jacket here—and, if you keep that up by the way, I'm sending you the bill for the drycleaning—"

"Don't care," Brennan said with an evil grin on her face. "It was worth it—still is, actually."

"Not that I'm complaining, Bones, because I'm not," Booth said. "But, with you pawing at me like that, there's no way in hell that no one would've looked at me and not known I'd just gotten laid—"

"And might again, if you're very lucky," Brennan said with a throaty chuckle. "And, for the record, I seem to recall that you did your fair amount of pawing at me. I'm just pleased I had a spare lab coat in my office that I could use when you ripped the buttons off of the last one."

Booth chuckled a deep laugh at that memory. "Yeah," he nodded at her. "Now, that was cool."

"See," Brennan said as she leaned in against his cheek as much as she could with the center console of the SUV separating them and deeply inhaled his scent. The smell made her toes curl with want. "Hmmm…I can think of something else that would be 'cool', Booth, because while I know it's horribly inappropriate, my suggestion would be that we have a slight delay in the schedule of plans before we go to interview Mr. Sparks—unless you want to see how limber I really am in this government-issue vehicle, Agent Booth."

Booth looked at Brennan as she pulled back slightly from him and licked her lips. He could see from the look in her eyes that she wasn't kidding. As he stared at her, Booth thought about her offer. If it weren't daytime, and if they weren't parked in front of the Jeffersonian, he might've considered her offer since they'd already defiled her professional workspace. _What's good for the goose is good for the gander_, the thought echoed in his mind. But, then another thought occurred to him.

"The next time we have sex, Bones," Booth said, "I intend to have use of a bed to show you what I can really do."

"Fine," she said as she gave him one last kiss before leaning back into her seat and buckling her seatbelt. "Then, I believe my place is closer. Since I have two separate beds to choose from between the master bedroom and the guest bedroom, will that suffice?"

"I guess we'll just have to find out, Bones," Booth told her with a mischievous wink, knowing that the interview with Sparks could wait an hour. "But, let's go see, shall we?"

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	30. That Time Brennan Got Unwanted Advice

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

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><p><span>Ch 30: That Time Brennan Got Unwanted Advice<span>

* * *

><p>For someone who was admittedly never very good in reading people, Brennan could feel the waves of anxiety rolling off of Camille Saroyan. If her stilted words of inquiry as to why Brennan was arriving at the lab late hadn't alerted her to the fact that something was bothering the pathologist, her body language certainly more than conveyed her meaning. Brennan really only wanted to finish consulting on the preliminary findings that Clark had for her, and make up for lost time with the remains. However, Cam's frown stopped her from proceeding. As she looked at the titular head of her lab, Brennan was at a loss for how much she should discuss her personal life with Cam. At last, Cam's words made the decision for her when the woman offered to share her expertise not on just one Booth brother (i.e., the one she'd actually dated), but the other as well.<p>

_Seriously, since when did Cam become an expert on anyone or anything having to do with the entire Booth family? The next thing she's going to be telling me is that she's become some sort of genealogical authority on John Wilkes Booth and the entire family's lineage going back to their lives in England during the eighteenth century_, Brennan complained to herself.

Being more than a bit testy, as Cam's extremely up close and personal relationship with Booth had always been a sore spot with her, Brennan snapped, "I didn't have sex with him, Cam."

Cam was taken a bit aback by both Brennan's tone and the fact that she had been referred to by her first name and not the normal 'Dr. Saroyan' appellation with which Brennan normally referred to her. She opened her mouth to speak, still not quite certain as to what she might say, when she was cut off by Angela's timely entrance.

Coming into the office with more than what some might call perfect time when it came to discussions of sex in the lab, Angela casually looked at her best friend and asked, "Didn't have sex with who?"

This time, it was Brennan who opened her mouth to speak, and this time it was Brennan who was cut off as Cam interrupted her response by answering for her. "Jared Booth."

The artist let her eyes casually glance from Brennan to Cam and back to Brennan again before she handed a file folder to Clark, and nodded at him. Clark let out a sigh of thanks as he took the manila file folder, glanced down at it, realized it was some of the information he'd been waiting on from Angela regarding her progress on the victim's facial reconstruction, and took it like the life preserver it was. Quickly disappearing, Angela couldn't help but smile as Clark almost scurried out of the office as if his life depended on it.

Looking over at her best friend, Angela then said, "Good."

Tilting her head at Angela's monosyllabic response, Brennan asked, "Why good?"

For a split second, she almost forgot that she and Angela weren't alone. Some of the irritability she felt because of Cam's presumptuousness gnawed at her a bit, and that cantankerous feeling increased as Cam responded instead of letting Angela speak.

"Because…" she offered with a strong breath of passionate response. However, the more Cam tried to speak, the more she seemed perplexed by how to convey her thoughts to Brennan without causing too much offense. _Why do I feel like I've walked into a lion's den, that lion is a very literal and rational minded forensic anthropologist, and I've forgotten my Indian Jones bull whip? _Cam silently lamented. "Because…." she tried again, and still, Cam was unable to finish the thought. _Oh, God. I so do not want to be here having this conversation right now with her…but, I have to because of Seeley. He cares about her…and so for him, she's got to understand about Jared._

Seeing Cam struggle to come up with a response, Angela took pity on the forensic pathologist and nodded at Brennan as she completed Cam's point. "Because he's Booth's little brother, and it would just be a creepy way to have sex with a Booth without having sex with the real Booth."

A look of relief flooded Cam's face as she looked over at the artist and nodded at her in clear appreciation. "Kudos, Angela," she smiled. "I would not have had the guts to say that aloud."

Feeling torn between wanting to ask her friend for clarification, and annoyance at Cam's continued unwanted insertion into her private life, Brennan wasn't sure how to proceed and so merely looked up at Angela and said, "Jared is a real Booth."

Angela considered her words for a minute before she nodded. "Hmmm. Jared's Booth-lite." Brennan's brow furrowed as Angela wondered if the forensic anthropologist understood the point she was trying to get across to her or not. Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, Angela added, "Booth is the real Booth."

As Angela brought up her partner, and she saw that Cam was watching her expectantly, Brennan felt a bit of panic flare in her as she suddenly felt that she was having a discussion that she really didn't want to be having at that very moment. _I'm not doing this―not here, not with Cam. Okay, maybe it would be one thing if it were just Angela and I, but I am not having a conversation that might delve into romantic and/or sexual topics while one of Booth's ex-lovers is in the room…especially __not__ when that lover is Cam. So…_ In an effort to take back control of a situation which she felt she was very quickly watching spiral out of control, Brennan waved her hand at her friend as she went on the offensive and said, "Wait. Stop."

"What?" Angela asked, her brow furrowing a bit in concern as she instantly recognized Brennan's defensive posturing when it appeared. "What is it?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't really find it appropriate to be having this discussion here," Brennan said with a shake of her head.

"What discussion?" Angela said with an arch of her eyebrow.

"Any discussion that has anything to do with me and Booth having or potentially having sex," Brennan answered truthfully.

"But, we always talk about your dates," Angela said with a frown. "It's what we've always done. You've never minded talking about the guys you were sleeping with before."

"Two minor points of correction regarding that statement," Brennan said as she lifted her gaze to meet Angela. "First, I've never had any serious concerns about discussing certain aspects of the more physical elements of some of my interactions with men in the past because they were about men who in no way would be bothered and/or placed in an uncomfortable situation―either personally or professionally―if they knew you possessed that knowledge. However, considering the fact that you work with Booth, and he is an _extremely _private man, and doesn't feel comfortable having his personal life gossiped about, I'm not going to have this discussion here and now out of respect for him." Brennan couldn't help it as her eyes darted to Cam as she finished the last sentence. _Some people may not be able to be discreet when they start sleeping with one of their co-workers, but until he says otherwise, I'm not doing that to Booth. _

Somewhat uncharacteristically oblivious to the mildly dirty look that Brennan had shot Cam as she finished her statement, the artist concentrated on what was clearly an atypical display of behavior for her friend. "But, wait," Angela said, crossing her arms. "You just said that there's no big deal about you and Booth."

"Second," Brennan said, ignoring her best friend's point, as she tilted her head to look at Cam and continued speaking. "I apologize if this sounds abrupt, but I don't feel comfortable having this discussion with you present, Dr. Saroyan." She stopped and then said, "While I have great respect for you in your professional capacity as a forensic pathologist and member of this lab, I wouldn't say that either of us have developed the familiarity or camaraderie that I've shared with Angela for several years. That is, I believe, in part, due to the fact that of the three women in this room, only one of them has actually engaged in a sexual relationship with Booth. As such, I feel that it would be inappropriate to continue this conversation lest you accidentally air any of his proverbial dirty laundry in public."

Cam stared wide-eyed at Brennan's words. She then felt a flash of anger at Brennan's implications. "I would never betray one of Seeley's confidences. He's one my dearest friends, and I'm only here to make certain you don't do something to screw up and hurt him."

"And, I would never intentionally hurt Booth, either," Brennan snapped at her. "He's _my_ partner…and my friend. I care about him a tremendous amount."

"But, not enough not to start sleeping with his little brother," Cam retorted.

"I already told you, I didn't sleep with Jared," Brennan told Cam with a clear sharpness evident in her voice. "I didn't sleep with him, even though he did kiss me, and I could've had sex with him if I wanted to, but I didn't because I was only with him since Booth asked me to go to the damn reception last night as a personal favor to him." As she continued to talk, Cam and Angela's eyes grew wider and wider with every string of words she uttered. But, Brennan still wasn't done talking as she continued to speak, the sentences rolling off of her tongue like a confession freely given now that she had finally started to tell the truth. "I don't want to sleep with Jared. I never did, I never will. He's attractive, but he's not as good looking as Booth. You said it yourself…he's not Booth, and he never will be. And, since I only want to sleep with Booth, and why would I be with his little brother if I only want to be with him?"

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Brennan suddenly realized what she'd said. Her mouth promptly closed as Cam and Angela stared at her in open-mouthed surprise. Taking in a quick glance at the two women's response, Brennan's gaze snapped to outside the lab when she heard a familiar voice booming.

"Bones? Where are ya?"

_Of course, he would show up now…of course, he would, _Brennan muttered as she struggled with trying to understand what she'd just said aloud. Her heart sank a bit as she saw Booth jauntily making his way towards her office. Knowing she needed to intercept him, Brennan pushed her panic away and calmly focused on achieving one goal―getting to her partner and getting him alone before either Cam or Angela could do so and tell him what she'd just said. _Great, just great_, Brennan mentally complained. _You've got perfect timing as always, Booth―just perfect, damn it!_

Flushing in embarrassment, Brennan shook her head as she headed to the office door and muttered, "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I need to go find my partner and tell him that I've made a crucial breakthrough and come to the conclusion that we need to have sex. Goodbye."

And, with that, she was gone leaving two women staring after her in complete shock.

_Although perhaps not as much shock as Booth's in for_, Angela thought wryly as she watched Brennan make a beeline for her partner, practically drag him towards the lab exit, and quickly disappear. _No, definitely not_.

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span> - This rewrite gave me a bit more trouble than some of the others. It's been languishing uncompleted for almost a month, so I plowed through and finished it as best I could. I've always thought Brennan was a bit more jealous/sensitive about Cam and Booth than the series portrayed, and I love playing with that idea, so that's what I was aiming for in the tone of this piece…hopefully it came through. I'm not sure how the rest of it turned out, but at least it's finished now, for better or worse, and #30 is in the bag. I'd love to hear what you all think, so do a gal a favor and click that bright, shiny blue button below and drop me a line. Thanks in advance!~


	31. That Time Booth Offered to Show Her His

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 31: That Time Booth Offered to Show Her His<span>

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><p>Brennan sat at her desk staring at the printed out booklet in her hand. All things considered, she could usually appreciate thoroughness. However, the thoroughness in this particular situation―as demonstrated by Dr. Sweets' written loquaciousness―wasn't something she found herself appreciating in any way, shape, or form at the current moment.<p>

_It's tedious_, she thought as she stared at the profuse paragraphs that prefaced the space for the written answer she was to give on her opinion as to why her critical thinking style seemed to mesh well with Booth's as opposed to challenging it. _I mean, does he really need to go on for over 1000 words to explain what type of response he really wants? _Brennan wondered. _He stated the question. I'm a fairly intelligent individual who can comprehend the context of the question_―_even if his wording is somewhat…imprecise. And, the sample answer―it's really not necessary. It's like he's searching for a specific type of answer instead of using this query exercise to gather legitimate scientific data. And, if that's indeed the case_―_if he's doing this in order to just procure responses that bolster assumptions and conclusions that he's already made instead of letting the data for itself…well, then he'll be unpleasantly surprised with my contribution to his study. Because, I absolutely refuse to participate in such a study just because Sweets thinks he can threaten my partnership with Booth_―

At the thought of her partner, Brennan's mind started to wander as it often did when Booth distracted her―whether in person, physically…or mentally, by proxy.

_I really shouldn't be worried about Sweets trying to change my relationship with Booth_, she thought. _It's not like the FBI has any choice in the matter. I simply won't agree to consult on any cases unless Booth's the lead agent involved. And, since they can hardly turn their bureaucratic noses up at the significance of my very specialized services_―_well, there's nothing to be worried about…there just isn't. _

Still, the more Brennan thought about it, the more a slight, and very familiar, knot slowly twisted in her stomach. _It's not like there's any __real__ threat here. So, I don't even know why I'm stressing myself out over this…I just need to finish the damn thing and hand it in so that it can be over and done with since that's what Sweets said he wanted. _She stopped, paused, and then couldn't help but make a face as she considered what the psychologist had said earlier when he'd given the partners the lengthy booklet. _I mean, a P.h.D. at twenty-two? Even if it is in psychology, where did he get it from? The University of Pennsylvania_―_Department of Advanced Degrees for Sale Online? Seriously…I know people that have been working on their dissertations for longer than Sweets has been alive. Now, they'll probably never finish and actually get their degrees, but that's not the point. I mean, come on, now. 22?_

As Brennan's mind continued to drift, and she mentally castigated the psychologist's credentials, she was mildly startled by the sharp knock that came on her open doorframe.

"Hey," Booth nodded at her as he didn't even stop to wait for her to acknowledge his presence―something she'd long ago given up on with regard to trying to train him in that particular bit of office etiquette.

_I guess I should be grateful that he doesn't come straight in and plop down in my chair, put his legs up on the desk, and look at me like he's ready to hold court anymore_, Brennan chuckled to herself as she recalled the many times he'd actually done that very thing during the first year of their partnership.

As he walked towards her, Booth continued, "Angela called. She wanted me to..." His words abruptly trailed off as he noticed what Brennan was loosely holding in her hands. "Hey, is that the test from Dr. Sweets?" he said with a conspiratorial nod.

Narrowing her eyes, Brennan said, "Yes."

His grin widening, he only stopped when he reached the edge of her desk. For a minute, Brennan thought he might sit on the edge again―another nasty habit she'd always had a hard time getting him to modify when they were in her office.

_It's not that I particularly mind it when he does that_, a voice echoed in Brennan's head. _It's just that he always manages to knock over my stuff. And, if I've told him once, I've told him a thousand times__―__a skull on my desk is not the same as a football that may be on his. No matter how many times I've explained, I have no desire to roll his football around and so he shouldn't want to juggle my skull._

Brennan stopped, not knowing why something seemed off in what she'd just said, but for some reason, she couldn't help but feel as if she'd had an unintentionally lewd thought. _Roll his football? No, that's not it. What in the hell is it? If you don't roll it, then…well, you can't rub it. And you can't stroke it. I mean, you could, but what would be the point of rubbing or stroking a football? Damn it! What in the hell is the right term? _She stopped and then from somewhere, it came to her. _Toss! I don't want to toss his football, and so he shouldn't want to knock my bones around. He just shouldn't. Be he always has_―_he always does._

In a rather smooth movement, Booth arched forward on his tiptoes as he leaned forward and tried to see what page of the booklet she was on. "Well, what'd you put for number seven?" he asked her. He stopped and then waggled his eyebrows as he added, "Because I put 12 to 15 times a day, and now I'm thinking I really misunderstood the question."

Pulling the booklet closer to her chest, Brennan responded instantly, "We're not supposed to discuss our answers."

Immediately, as soon as she'd said it, Brennan knew what his response would be―either he'd try to charm her or he'd sulk. _Or, perhaps both, in that_ _order, if the first one doesn't work_, Brennan mentally added.

"Come on, Bones," Booth cajoled her. "The teacher's not in the room. Let me see."

Sighing, she shook her head slightly as she said, "Is this how you got through school, Booth?"

"No," he said quickly, before he amended his statement with a sheepish smile. "Well, maybe algebra, but..."

"No―" Brennan said. "I'm not showing you mine."

"Oh, come on, Bones," he again prodded her. "If you show yours, I show you mine." He stopped again and waggled his eyebrows. "It's pretty good, ya know."

"Your test answers or something else?" Brennan asked without thinking as she looked down at her test booklet to make certain it was strategically close enough to her body that Booth couldn't make a successful grab for it. Distracted as she was, Brennan didn't realize that she'd said the words out loud until several seconds after she'd actually spoken. Immediately, her eyes snapped up to meet Booth's. The surprise was evident on her face as she flushed slightly, realizing that her statement could be taken to have a double meaning that she hadn't necessarily intended. _At least…I don't think I did, right?_

Amusement clearly show out of Booth's eyes as he smoothly did what Brennan had thought he'd do earlier and slid onto the edge of her desk, angling his body so that it was just at the edge of invading her personal space, but not quite after he realized what she'd said.

"I dunno, Bones," he grinned at her. "You tell me."

_Okay_, she said. _With the day I've had, let's just see how far he wants to push this little teasing thing of ours. It's not like my mind wasn't that far from the proverbial gutter, apparently, anyway._

"I think if you meant your test answers, you wouldn't be invading my personal space like you are," Brennan nodded at him.

"Oh," Booth said, looking at his position as if he'd just noticed it. "Huh. How about that? You know, I _can _be absentminded at times, Bones. Maybe I just didn't notice where I was."

"And, maybe you did," she countered. "Now, the real question is…what did you think you were being asked when you wrote down the answer for number seven?"

Raising an eyebrow at her, his grin widened. "Wouldn't you just like to know?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know," she said, suddenly feel her cheeks burn a bit at her audaciousness. _I'm flirting. I'm flirting with Booth. I'm flirting with my partner…who is Booth. When and how in the hell did this happen? I'm flirting with Booth…and I'm really liking it._

"Huh," he nodded, clearly taking in the sight of her flaring nostrils, dilated pupils, and the lovely pink tinge that had colored her cheeks. _I don't know what's gotten into you, Bones, but I think I like it. _"So, you really want to know, then, huh, Bones?"

"Yes," she said, leaning forward a bit in her chair as, this time, _she _was the one who now began to invade Booth's space.

"What do you think it is?" as she leaned forward, Booth suddenly caught a whiff of her scent, and the smell of the vanilla and cinnamon body splash, combined with the apple-scented shampoo she always used, made her smell better than anything he could think of at the moment. _It's like the smell of warm apple pie…only better_.

"I think…I think that it has to do with the number of times that you think about me during the day," she said, her voice tentative as she tilted her head and sought out his gaze. "Am I right? Is that close to what you thought the question was asking you?"

His throat suddenly very dry, Booth swallowed once as he wondered how to answer. It was as if, without either one of them realizing it, the light teasing had quickly transitioned into sexy flirting…and in the space of a heartbeat, now it was potentially something much, _much _more.

"Honestly?" he found himself speaking without thinking about the words that were coming out of his mouth as he said them. "In part. But, you forgot one crucial little bit there, Bones."

"Oh?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "I thought I was answering how many times I thought about you in a, uhh, ya know…personal/non-work kinda way."

"Personal/non-work kinda way?" Brennan chuckled. As she held his gaze, she then asked, "Does that include in a sexual way, Booth?"

Again, Booth realized how dry his throat was. "Uhhh, maybe?" he finally offered in a very lame way that caused Brennan to arch an eyebrow at him.

"Maybe?" she repeated.

"Definitely," he said, again as if he'd been given a shot of sodium pentathol. "I definitely think of you…like that…a lot."

"Oh?" she said as she smiled at his response, leaning in and placing her hands lightly on his thighs. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," he nodded, now finding it was his turn to flush in embarrassment. "Like I answered…12-15 times a day."

"You think about me 12 to 15 times per day in a sexual manner?" she laughed as she closed the distance between them. "Is that all?"

"What do you mean is that all?" Booth asked, taking mild offense at her question.

However, never one to let Booth get too far off track, just as she closed the distance between their faces so that their lips were mere centimeters apart, Brennan said softly, "Because I think about you in a sexual way at least two dozen times or more each day."

As Booth considered the meaning of her words, his nervousness vanished, and his earlier suave cockiness reasserted itself. "It was just a guesstimate, Bones. Usually it's more…a _lot_ more, if you catch my drift."

And, as Brennan now took her turn to consider the meaning of Booth's words, she was about to tell him that she was pleased that it was just an estimate. However, she never got the chance to speak when she suddenly felt all rational thoughts of estimates and essay tests and everything but Booth fall right out of her metaphorical head as she finally realized that his eager lips were once more on hers.

_Awesome_, they finally both thought. _Thanks, Sweets. Because this is totally, epically…awesome._

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>


	32. That Time Brennan Was Happy

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 32<span>: That Time Brennan Was Happy She Didn't Have a Boyfriend

* * *

><p>As Booth continued to navigate the standard government-issue black Chevy Tahoe SUV through the streets of Washington DC as they discussed their interview with Sahar in the investigation of Hamid Masruk, Brennan couldn't help but delight in her baiting of her partner.<p>

_He seems unusually tense and agitated today_, Brennan thought as she noted how his jar was squared and he kept tightening his grip on the steering wheel. _For a man who seemingly engaged in coitus less than twenty-four hours ago, he doesn't appear to be relaxed at all. Hmmm…I wonder if perhaps Tessa isn't quite the sexual dynamo she wanted me to think she appeared to be when she came prancing out of Booth's bedroom in his rumpled Oxford dress shirt last night like it was some all-call review for frigid non-busty blondes of the business world?_

Somewhat pleased with herself that she was adroit enough to keep her mental monologue intact at the same time she maintained her conversation with Booth, Brennan continued to take the part of the devil's advocate as they continued discussing why Sahar may or may not have had a motive to poison her husband. The more she defended Sahar, and the more Booth became insistent that his wife was the one who had killed Masruk, the more Brennan found herself becoming annoyed.

_He can't be that much of a misogynist, _Brennan thought. _Surely not._

Deciding to continue to test her theory, she brought up the subject that had held her mild interest since she'd discovered Booth's 'girl-friend' less than twelve hours earlier. However, again, the more she seemed to bring up Tessa Jankow, the more Booth's response seemed to become overtly emotional, erratic, and almost aggressive in its nature.

As she contemplated this phenomenon, at last, Brennan realized what was going on, and she nodded at him with a knowing smile.

"Keep changing the subject," she told him. Booth shot her a look as she smugly added, "I get it. You're sensitive about you and Tessa."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Booth countered, "Why aren't we talking about you and your boyfriend?"

Again, Brennan's slightly vainglorious and condescending manner continued as she said simply, "I don't have a boyfriend."

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Booth's head snapped over as he looked at her, taking his eyes off the road. Although it was there just for a split second, the look of interest was clearly present in his gaze before it disappeared as quickly as it had manifested itself. Almost instantly, the small crack in his façade was replaced with the normal arrogantly cocky demeanor that he normally had when he spoke to Brennan.

Shaking his head, he finally responded, "You just said that as though it's a good thing...and you know what? It's a very, _very_ sad comment on your personal life."

Brennan couldn't help but laugh as she retorted, "Oh, really?" This time it was her turn to let a crack of emotion through her comportment. "And, why is that? Just because you say it to be so, Booth?"

"Anyone who's alone is a sad thing," he repeated. "Human beings, but their very nature, Miss All-Holier-Than-Thou-Sci-Fi-Flunky-Fun, are social creatures, right?"

At this, Brennan scoffed, "What? Don't tell me that you're really trying to use science to prove your point to me. What…did you leave the TV on while you fell asleep to some umpteen competitive sporting event, and you woke up watching the Discovery Channel again?"

"You know what?" Booth snapped as his eyes flashed at her for another couple of seconds before he returned them to the road. "Contrary to what you may or may not think, Bones, I'm not some big dumb idiot who's lucky enough to be able to stand up right, walk, and talk at the same time, okay? I do have _some_ brains."

"Granted," Brennan said drolly. "Otherwise, I doubt I'd be able to associate with you as I do on such a regular basis." She stopped and then continued. "And, while we're on the subject of making obvious points, just so that you know, I'm not someone who needs to immerse myself in some cheap and tawdry relationship with a partner that I'm clearly with only to satisfy my biological needs because I need the veneer of respectability to make me feel better about being with someone only because I'm using them for sex," Brennan finished what had quickly become a mini tirade without her realizing it. "I don't need a boyfriend to get laid, so there."

If she'd looked a little closer at the way Booth flushed at her words and the way his nostrils had started to flare―instead of merely crossing her arms and sitting back quite comfortably in the passenger's side seat as she did once she'd said her piece―Brennan might've had a split second of warning as to what her partner was about to do next. Instead, she was somewhat taken aback when Booth abruptly quickly changed lanes so that he could pull the SUV off of the main road they were traveling on and guide it towards a side street. Quickly pulling the car into a makeshift parking spot, he abruptly put the car into park and yanked on the parking break. Unbuckling his seat belt, he rapidly shifted in his seat as he turned to face his partner.

"What is with you?" he said, the level of growing fury clear in his voice. "I mean, seriously―what gives?"

"I'm completely and totally fine," Brennan retorted as she looked at Booth's growing ire with obvious interest. "I believe that you're the one who's demonstrating rather unpredictable and unstable behavior at the moment."

"Don't do that," Booth spat at her in clear aggrivation. "Don't you dare condescend to me, Bones. You don't know anything about me or my relationship with Tessa―"

"Anymore than you know anything about my life or lack of a relationship with a member of the opposite sex," Brennan interrupted him.

"God!" Booth snapped as he turned around and hit the driver's side steering wheel with the palm of his open fist. "You're the most infuriating, arrogant, smug, self-righteous woman I've ever met…and that's saying something because I know a lot of women!"

Slowly turning in her seat, Brennan shot Booth a smile that she knew would make him even angrier than he already was. "Thank you."

As soon as she'd spoken, Booth's head again whipped around to see her looking rather calm and collected at something that he'd intended as a scathing insult. And, considering the fact that Brennan hadn't seemed to take it as such only made him all the more upset...just as she'd hoped.

Looking away, Booth bit his bottom lip as he shook his head slightly. "I never should've answered the door last night," he muttered under his breath.

"Why?" Brennan asked, perking up a bit at his words. "I assumed from your partial state of dress that you'd finished having sexual intercourse with Tessa―although, I have to tell you, Booth, just in my personal opinion, if you're still this metaphorically tightly wound after having had sex, maybe your partner isn't doing something right." She stopped as she let her words trail off before she added slyly, "You probably should do something about that, you know. After all―what's the point in going through the motions if you don't even have a decent orgasm for all your efforts?"

With each word she'd spoken, Booth's eyes widened a bit more. At last, as her question trailed off into the ether, it took Booth a few seconds before he blinked and realized that his partner had indeed just said what he thought she'd said.

Finally, at a loss of what else to do, Booth closed his eyes, counted to ten, and prayed to the Holy Mother that he'd be given the strength to resist whatever temptation Brennan would never lay before him.

_Because I'm gonna either kiss her and then screw her in the SUV right here and now or kill her and have to dump the body_, Booth thought glumly. _For the love of God and all His holy saints, please, somebody, cut me some slack here. Help me_―

"I'm still here, you know," Brennan's insanely teasing voice came after a few deceptively calm seconds. "I'm not going to disappear simply because you close your eyes and make a wish, Booth."

Realizing that perhaps that he wasn't going to get an answer to his prayer today, Booth took one last deep breath, opened his eyes, and then said, "Okay, new ground rules, Bones. No more talking about Tessa, your lack of a boyfriend, sex, orgasms, relationships, or anything that isn't related to the case."

"If you recall," Brennan drawled. "This all began because we were talking about the case, and you were being unfair to Sahar in trying to assign her a motive in poisoning her husband."

"Fine," Booth growled. "Then, silence. From now on, until we get back to the Hoover, not another word. Understand?"

"I'm sorry," Brennan said. "Did I miss the part where you got some indication that you can boss me around and simply because you give me an order, you think I'll follow it?" She blinked at him with her large baby blue eyes―seemingly innocent in their wide-eyed wonder, although Booth knew much, _much _better on that account―before she added, "Tessa may be the type of woman that lets you boss her around, Booth―both in bed and out, for all I know―but, just for the official record, I'm not."

Tightening his hands on the steering wheel, Booth took another deep breath as he again prayed for patience and strength to resist temptation. Refusing to prolong what he knew might spiral into a very uncontrollable situation, Booth sat back in his seat, rebuckled his seat belt, released the parking break, and put the car into drive. Shaking his head, he could feel the satisfaction radiating off of Brennan as she took his silence as a type of victory.

As he guided the car back into traffic, Booth shook his head as he looked at the road. _One of these days, Bones…one of these days, we're gonna finish this discussion. Because, don't think for one minute I'm gonna let your little digs about my girlfriend, choice in relationships, or sex life go unanswered. I'm not. We've got a job to do right now, but as soon as the opportunity presents itself, we're gonna finish this little conversation, and then…maybe…maybe you'll see just how wrong you are because I'll follow up my display of verbal skills with some show of physical prowess, huh? And, then…well, we'll see if I can really boss you around or not_―_especially if I can get rid of Tessa between now and then. Yeah. That's it. Good plan, Booth. Good plan.  
><em>

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>


	33. That Time B&B Ate Latenight Chinese

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 33: That Time They Ate Late-night Chinese<span>

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><p>He couldn't explain why exactly, but somehow Booth knew that he needed to do it. That's why he'd gone to China Wok―one of the few twenty-four hour Chinese places in Georgetown and gotten orders of Vegetable Fried Rice and Vegetable Lo Mein for her, Szechuan Chicken and Mongolian Chicken, extra spicy both, for him, and two orders of egg rolls and spring rolls that they could each split. Although it was well past midnight, he knew she'd be up―just like he knew that she would have eaten, even though he knew she would've tried to do both before giving up and pulling out her laptop with the excuse of working on her manuscript…only to stare at blank pages. That's why he was pressing her doorbell at 12:34 in the middle of the night carrying a steaming box full of Chinese food that all happened to include a free order of pan-fried dumplings since he'd spent over $25 (and those were all for him!).<p>

All of Booth's suspicions were confirmed when it only took a moment for Brennan to open the door, and he saw her dressed for bed in her chemise nightgown that was covered by her black chiffon robe. However, he knew she hadn't been sleeping as her hair and makeup were still just as they'd been when they'd parted company at the Founding Fathers when he'd insisted they stop for a drink several hours earlier. Her eyes were also alert, and he could tell she'd been wide awake.

Brennan cracked the door for a moment, taking in the sight of her partner and the wonderful smells that emanated from the small cardboard box he was carrying. Suddenly realizing how ravenous she actually was, a small smile played across her face as she opened the door just a tad wider before she spoke.

"If you keep bringing Chinese food in the middle of the night, we're both gonna get fat," Brennan joked.

Shaking his head, Booth replied, "I know what you've been thinking."

At that moment in time, Brennan was actually thinking about how grateful she was that Booth was there. _I don't know how he does it_, Brennan thought. _But, he always seems to know __exactly__ what I need and when and how I need it. He's quite remarkable in that way…and several others, if I'm going to be completely honest._

"I doubt it," she finally told him with a small shake of her head.

"You've been thinking," Booth began, seemingly oblivious to the small amount of tenderness that had suddenly appeared in Brennan's eyes. "―that your family is made up of liars and criminals." As he spoke, she arched an eyebrow at his words, somewhat surprised to realize for the first time in some while that she actually _hadn't _been thinking about her parents or Russ. Still, Booth continued speaking, and since he seemed to have rehearsed his little spiel―and, in truth…well, he had, while we waited for the takeout order to be ready for pick up―Brennan felt it only right that she should continue to listen without interrupting him. "And, that makes you feel lonely. There's a story here we don't know yet."

Although she'd only heard half of what he'd said because she was somewhat distracted by both the growing rumble in her stomach, and the blossoming warmth she felt at being touched by Booth's thoughtfulness, Brennan nodded at him and gave a token response when he looked at her in expectation. "Like what?" she asked.

And, then, suddenly, the seriousness of Booth's practiced spiel was gone and replaced by his normal off-the-cuff demeanor as he gave her a slightly playful, but indulgent smile as he shook his head and responded. "Bones, 'don't know' means it's a mystery," he told her.

Nodding, she swallowed a chuckle, but did allow a small smile to fall across her face.

After a few seconds where tired brown eyes met tired blue eyes, Booth gave her the full out toothy grin as he raised the box he was carrying in the air slightly. "So, what gives, Bones? I've got a hot and steaming box of Chinese takeout yum yum goodness here. Are you gonna actually leave me standing in the hall all night, or what? Can I come in?"

The small smile that had been on her face grew larger as she opened the door wider. "Of course you can come in―when you come bearing gifts like that, who am I to turn you away, right?"

"Right," Booth nodded confidently as he walked through the door, into the apartment, and headed in a very familiar path towards the kitchen with Brennan hot on his proverbial coattails.

"You know," she said as she flipped on the lights, and Booth set the box on the counter top. As he began to distractedly pull out random boxes and open them to see what was what, she went to another cabinet and pull out dishes. When Booth saw what she was doing, he quirked an eyebrow at her. "What?" she asked.

"Dishes, Bones?" he asked. "Really?"

"Hey," she pointed at him. "You were the one that headed to the kitchen instead of the couch. I thought that meant that you wanted plates instead of just eating from the containers again like a bunch of uncivilized heathens like we normally do."

Frowning a bit, Booth turned and took a step closer to her, but didn't close the distance between them as he maintained a look of mock hurt on his face. "But, I thought you liked it when we were uncivilized heathens?"

"As long as said uncivilized behavior doesn't end up dumping Szechuan sauce on my couch arm again like it did last time, then yes, I'm fine with it," Brennan said as she crossed her arms.

At the mention of the spill he'd made a few days before when he had accidentally juggled a carton, Booth had the good graces to blanche a bit in embarrassment. "Hey, I told you I'd clean it up, and I didn't, didn't I?"

"Chili oil is used in making that sauce," Brennan countered. "Oil of any type is _very _difficult to get out of that type of fabric using just soap and water."

"Hey, it looked pretty good to me when I was done with it," her partner protested. He stopped and then took another step towards her. "Didn't it?"

Trying to maintain the look of mock severity on her face, Brennan knew she was failing when she felt a familiar tug at the corner of her mouth. Uncrossing her arms, she finally shrugged and said, "Maybe."

Turning around, she didn't see Booth smile as she reached for plates…and then suddenly she realized that it was the middle of the night, and she was about to eat Chinese take out with her partner…all because of her screwed up family.

_I can't do this_, a small voice whispered in her head. _I can't…because if I do, the next time things get bad with Dad and Russ, I'll expect Booth to be there to make me feel better_―_I'll rely on him, and I can't do that…I can't do that to him, and I can't do that to me, and I can't do that to us, no matter how much I really, __really__, what to do it. I...I-I just can't._

Booth, noticing her sudden quiet and stillness, suddenly was there―even if she didn't want him to be. Coming up behind her, he lightly pulled her against him and gave her a calm and reassuring hug even as she started to shake―all the while, never having said a word.

"It's okay, Bones," he whispered in her ear. "All of it…it'll be okay. I promise."

And, in that moment, as she let herself indulge in the luxury of his warmth and comforting embrace―just for a moment, Brennan forgot why it was that she normally didn't let him do this type of thing. Instead, she drew what succor she could from his strength…and was grateful as he continued to hold her in his arms.

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>


	34. That Time Booth Wouldn't Say Goodbye

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 34: That Time That Booth Wouldn't Say Goodbye<span>

* * *

><p>Her stomach felt as if it were tied into a thousand tiny knots that became tighter each time she said goodbye to one more of her friends. Hodgins, Cam, and Angela―in some ways, Brennan had thought that perhaps Angela would be the hardest to say goodbye to as she stood in front of the ticketing counter at Dulles International Airport.<p>

_That is, at least that's what I would think if Booth were here, and I had to say goodbye to him―I think it might be so hard that I don't know if I could do it_, a thought morosely echoed in her head as Angela wished her luck and gave her a hug. _But, at least…at least I won't have to do that―at least, last night, we said our goodbyes in private…and even if I didn't say what I really wished I could've said, at least_―_at least it's done. Because, if he were here right now, I don't think I could do this. Damn it…I don't want to do this now, and he's not even here. I mean, I know I have to go. Going_―_it's the right thing to do. I'm sure of it. I…I-I…I just wish I didn't have to go._

The hustle and bustle of the airport continued to exacerbate the pressures and feelings of anxious dread that Brennan had been feeling since she'd begun packing her bags a week before and had only continued to grow worse with each day, with each hour that she came closer to getting on the flight that would take her thousands of miles away from her home, her family, her friends, her work…and away from Booth.

_Why didn't he ask me to stay? _the errant thought continued to echo in Brennan's head. _If he'd just asked…said a single word. Anything…a sign. Anything to let me know that he didn't want me to go_―_that he'd wanted me to stay. Why didn't he? Did I hurt him that badly? Does he really think that what might've been between us is gone because of that stupid damn mistake I made in front of the Hoover a couple of months ago? God, Booth…why didn't you stop me? All you had to do is stop me, just try to stop me, and I wouldn't be getting on this plane. I wouldn't be going so far away. I wouldn't be leaving you_―_I wouldn't be leaving us._

As Brennan continued to mentally torture herself―much as she'd spent the last two weeks since she'd accepted the position of the head of the Maluku Islands Research Initiative Project―a scratchy and tinny, but decidedly female voice, with what sounded like an English accent echoed over the airports PA system. "Attention please―first class passengers on Flight 318 to Jakarta may now begin to board."

Realizing that she'd reached the point of no return, Brennan didn't need to hear Daisy Wick's annoying reminder of that painful fact, but managed to remain civil when the intern spoke. "Dr. Brennan, we really have to go."

Turning to her, Brennan gave a curt nod as she cleared her throat and then replied, "Yes."

Bending down, she started to adjusted the handle on her rolling suitcase when suddenly could feel something so strongly that she knew she must be imagining it.

_No, it can't be_, a small voice whispered in her ear. _You're imagining things. He can't be here…right?_

Slowly raising her head, she looked up, through the crowds, immediately her eyes sought and found the one thing that―if she'd believed in a supreme prime mover―she would've said was an answer to the unspoken prayers she'd been muttering all morning…really, all night and morning, since Booth had left her apartment the previous evening.

Dr. Camille Saroyan, however, summed up the situation best when she saw Brennan freeze and then followed the forensic anthropologist's eyes as they remained fixed on a very familiar form that continued to move with purposeful and deliberate steps. "Oh, my God," Cam breathed in a low voice, causing everyone but Brennan to stop moving. Instead, Cam's words had the complete opposite effect, and seemed almost as if they'd released her to almost jog towards him as if he were a magnet and she a piece of steel drawn towards him whether it was her volition to be pulled in that direction or not.

At last, when they met each other half way, Brennan looked up at him in wonderment. Booth gave her a sheepish smile as he finally broke the silence between them.

"Sorry, I'm late, but I had to come say goodbye," he told her simply.

"But―" Brennan said, her voice suddenly incredibly vulnerable as a similar look washed over her face. "We said goodbye," Brennan told him. The vulnerable look quickly transitioned to one of confusion as she added, "I thought we agreed...last night. That would be it, and we wouldn't..." Her voice cracked as her words trailed off because a horrible thought had suddenly occurred to her. "Oh, God, Booth, please don't do this to me. Don't make me say goodbye twice, because I don't think I can do it."

"Okay, I lied," he said with as firm and comforting a smile as he could. "I'm not here to say goodbye...I'm not. I swear it." He stopped and then paused before he continued, "Oh, God, Bones―I know what you said yesterday about how much it was hurting you to do this. As a matter a fact, that's one of the reasons I'm here. I just couldn't get those words outta my head. They've been on this constant loop in my brain for the last fourteen hours. And, the look you had on your face―you were in so much pain. God, it was killing me. So...I wouldn't―I _couldn't_ do that to you. I promise...no I swear."

"Then…what are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were at Fort McNair."

"I was," he said with a nod and a gesture to the desert camo fatigues he wore. "I was…but, I left."

"You didn't go AWOL did you?" Brennan asked, concern evident on her face. "Please tell me that you didn't―"

"No," he said with another shake of his head. "I didn't go AWOL."

"But, I don't understand," Brennan replied, the look of confusion on her face growing. "That doesn't make any sense. How can that be?"

Raising a hand to the back of his head, Booth gestured at his hair. "I was about to sign the final re-enlistement paperwork this morning…and I was going to get my hair buzzed regulation after that, and I was standing in one of the offices that I know I've been in a thousand times before, even if I've only been there once―the paperwork on the desk in front of me…and as I stared at the terms of my enlistment, I raised my hand to the back of my head to run my fingers through it―"

"You do that a lot," Brennan unintentionally interrupted. "You do it when you're thinking about something that you're perplexed or confused about," she explained.

"I do?" he blinked in clear surprise.

Nodding, Brennan added, "Yes…you've don't it for at least as long as I've known you―probably even longer than that, if I had to guess."

"Oh," he said. "I didn't know that." He stopped and then said, "Anyway, I was feeling how long my hair was, and realizing how short it would be when they buzzed it, and I suddenly knew it, Bones―I couldn't do it. I couldn't sign the damn paperwork."

"But, why?" she asked instantly, too afraid to hope to hear the answer to her question, but at the same time knowing that she needed to hear his response almost as badly as she needed air in that moment to survive.

Taking a step towards her, he reached out and gently cupped her jaw. Brennan felt the world spin as she heard a rushing in her ears as soon as his callused hands began to stroke the softness of her skin. "Do you really have to ask me that?" he whispered.

"I...I-I―"

"Don't go, Bones," he said as he continued to stroke her cheek in a strong and steady rhythmic pattern. "We―both of us, we're about to make two of the biggest mistakes I think we could ever make…and so, I'm here. I didn't sign the reenlistment paperwork. I left…and it's not because of Parker, or work, or hell…anything but one really damn good reason."

"What's that?" she dared to breathe.

"You," he said quietly as he held her gaze intently and with a silent plea. "So, please…don't…don't run. Don't leave me. Don't go."

As she stared at his gaze―a look full of longing, love, fearful hope, and a desperation that Brennan knew all too well…in that moment, she knew that she could only give him one answer.

Tilting her head, she smiled slightly as she felt her eyes water, and she nodded at him. "Okay," she responded after a moment that was heavy with a pregnant pause. "Okay."

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>


	35. That Time Booth Told Brennan Not to Come

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 35: That Time Booth Told Brennan Not to Come for Her<span>

* * *

><p>Booth wasn't really certain he knew what he was doing there.<p>

One call from Brennan, and he hadn't been able to help himself. He'd dropped everything, told Rebecca that he needed to reschedule his weekend with Parker, and he'd taken a few personal days in the middle of an investigation that had more than slightly pissed Cullen off when Booth had told him he was leaving D.C. That was to say nothing of the cost involved with getting a same-day flight from Reagan National to Louis B. Armstrong International Airport.

_That cost a pretty penny, not that I'm ever gonna tell her that_, Booth thought as they sat in the pews of the temporary morgue while they waited for Ethan Embry to return with news on John Doe 361's remains. _Damn it. I mean…one call and that's all it took. My phone rings one minute, and she's on the phone, and even though she doesn't say it, I can hear it in her voice. She was scared, and even though she was telling me not to come, as soon as the words 'assaulted' were out of her mouth, that's all I needed to hear. Something bad happened to her, and she didn't know what it was, and she was scared, and she called me. And, here I am._

Looking up at her, Booth took a moment and asked, "Can I make a lifestyle suggestion?"

_You're in way over your head here_, Booth thought.

Brennan stared at Booth and waited expectantly as she nodded and gave him permission as she said, "Go ahead."

_You're in way over your head, and you're scared. And, you called me, and I want to know why, _a voice echoed in Booth's head._ But, it's not like I can tell you that. So…._

"You know, vacation," Booth said, struggling with his thoughts and not realizing that his words hadn't quite said what he thought he'd said. "It's from the Latin, '_vacatio_.' It means, you know, 'freedom' or 'release'." Booth watched as Brennan rolled his eyes at him. But, he noticed that when she rolled her eyes at him, it was in a slightly playful way that didn't match the normally annoyed or exasperated looks that she gave him. He took that as a sign of encouragement and continued, "You might want to consider that next time."

_Why did you call me, Bones_? the thought echoed in his head again. _Why did you? Tell me._

Brennan's eyes twinkled as she thought about what Booth had said. "Learning Latin?" she finally said as her lips twisted into a thin smile that she was trying to suppress.

_Are you even happy that I'm here? That I came? Because I am…I know I'm very happy to be here…guarding your back_, he thought. _I've got your back…even if you don't want me here. But, you know what? I think you do. I think you're glad I'm came. I may be flattering myself, but I think you've been a little less scared since I walked into that medical examination room. You've been a little less scared and a little bit more like your ole pain-in-the-ass self, and I'm glad. I-I…I don't like it when you're like that. I don't like it one friggin' bit. You're not supposed to be scared…not ever_, he told himself.

Booth shook his head and gestured vaguely around them, "This is the opposite of vacation." He stopped and sighed as he lifted his gaze and added in a tone that was slightly teasing, but not in a hurtful way, as he said sarcastically, "No wonder you snapped, went insane and totally lost your mind."

_I wish_, another voice echoed in his head. _I wish…maybe, one day you'll see that it's not a bad thing to need help, Bones. It's okay to trust and ask for help, and even if I don't like it, it's okay not to feel in control and so damn self-assured all the time. It's okay. Just…man_―_I wish I could take you away from all this. I do. I really do. I wish…I wish you'd come to Coasta Rica with me a couple of months ago. I wish we'd been on the beach, lounging in the sand on a couple of towels with a couple of fruity beverages in our hands, making us just tipsy enough that maybe you would've fallen for my lame dumbass line when I tried to let me put some more sunscreen on your back just so that I could touch you. But, no_―_you didn't, and we didn't…but, I can still want it. I can still wish it. And…I can still make you smile. God, I love your smile._

But, Booth's slight sarcastic jib had gotten more than just a smile from Brennan as she sighed in mock exasperation as she said, "Oh, thanks for your understanding."

"Hey," he grinned back at her. "Not a problem. You know me, Bones. I'm Mr. Understanding."

_God, I love your smile, and I love that laugh_, the voice whispered in his head again. _I don't think I'll ever get tired of either one._

She stared at him for another minute and then said with her voice growing a bit more somber as she set aside her teasing and amused demeanor, "In either case, I…thanks, Booth. I…just, before I forget, thanks."

_Hmmm? _he wondered.

"For having my back," she said simply. "For being a good partner…and a good friend. For coming here to get me. I-I…I know I didn't say it before, and so that's why I want to say it now. Thanks for doing what you did. Thanks for being you. Thanks for…everything."

_Wow, Bones_, he thought, a bit of emotion knotting in his throat. _Way to render a smartass speechless._

After another minute, he nodded his head and said, "No problem, Bones. I've got your back. You know, that. Anytime."

Her bright blue eyes met his gaze and held them for a minute before she nodded, and smiled one more time, causing Booth to grin himself in spite of it all.

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>

* * *

><p><span>Author's Note<span>: This is not the piece I expected it to be. I thought, initially, it would produce a nice bit of B&B banter that I might be able to use to kick start a bit of writer's block I've been having. However wistful!Booth took control of this piece, and it turned out like this. I'm not sure what I think of it, but here it is.~


	36. That Time Brennan Called it BS

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 36: That Time Brennan Called it BS<span>

* * *

><p>They were outside and in the woods, and Booth knew that if this was the type of crime scene that needed his full attention―not that all of them didn't, but some were more troublesome than others―but, this one most definitely did. Brennan walked next to him as they navigated their way along a nature trail, following one of the park rangers down a path that was close to being overgrown with pine tree and brush scrub, but not quite. He winced as he walked, wondering for the tenth time if maybe he should've changed from the light grey suit he was wearing into something less formal as they carefully walked in the direction of the cave in which they'd been told the remains had been found.<p>

Trying his hardest to make certain he didn't step in any wet or muddy spots that would do too much damage to his leather wingtips as he tried to keep pace with the eager park ranger who was leading them, Booth immediately became distracted when Brennan chose that moment to start talking.

"So, have you talked to Hannah since you got back?" she asked in a tone of voice that was almost…casual, if it hadn't been coming from anyone else but Brennan in that moment.

Quirking an eyebrow at her, Booth resisted from shooting her a look of surprise. Instead, deciding that he needed to focus his concentration on where he was going, Booth casually responded, "Oh, yeah―a couple of times. She said she's waiting for her new assignment, probably in Southern Iraq."

Brennan didn't even wait the span of a minute before she suddenly tossed out one of those out-of-left-field statements that he'd thought he'd grown used to her delivering to him to keep him on his toes. But, in the time since they'd been away, he'd apparently become somewhat…desensitized to her random comments.

"I find it novel that you would leave her since you believe so emphatically in the mythic powers of love," she suddenly told him.

As they continued walking, the parker ranger that they were walking with, one Gary Nesbitt, looked over his shoulder and asked Booth, "Do you understand what she's saying?"

Sighing, Booth responded, "Just nod."

Not to be pacified so easily, Brennan continued, "What? But, I'm just saying that you wanted to fall in love and you did in Afghanistan―"

At the word 'Afghanistan', the ranger's ears perked up as he nodded at Booth. "You were in Afghanistan?"

Nodding again, Booth answered, "Yeah. I just got back."

A look of comprehension on Nesbitt's face dawned as he replied, "Ahhhh. I was stationed as a Staff Sergeant in Kandahar. I served with my brother in '04."

Booth looked at the park ranger and then added, "I am―well, I was a Ranger."

Nesbitt's face light into a smile as he said, "Well, you guys are awesome." He paused for a beat as the smile faded and was replaced with a serious look as he said, "My brother didn't make it back."

Another look of grim understanding furrowed Booth's brow as he said in a quiet voice, "Ohhh…sorry."

Nesbitt nodded and said, "It was worse for his wife and kid. I take care of them now." He paused when he saw how dour Booth's look had become. Brightening once again, he smiled apologetically as he said, "Sorry. I didn't mean to bring this down. You were, errrr, saying something about a woman you left behind?" He blinked in expectation at the FBI agent.

A bit uncomfortably, the severe look on Booth's face receded a bit as he said, "Oh, I didn't leave her behind." He paused for a few seconds before he added, "It was her decision to stay."

Suddenly, Brennan―who'd been feeling quite annoyed that she'd been excluded from the conversation which she herself had initiated, raised her voice as she said to Booth, "Well, maybe you didn't really love her."

As soon as the words were out of Brennan's mouth, and he'd comprehended what she'd actually said, Booth's eyes widened as he stopped walking, turned around, and Brennan almost walked smack dab into his muscular chest.

"What?" he blinked at her.

Narrowing her eyes at his exclamation―and pleased for some reason that she'd gotten his attention enough hat he'd decided to include her back in the conversation―Brennan repeated, "I said if you left Hannah, maybe you don't love her."

"I-I…" Booth's words suddenly trailed off as he flushed red when he realized Nesbitt had stopped walking and was hanging on their every word. "I care about Hannah and miss her a lot, Bones."

"Caring about someone and missing them doesn't necessarily equate to loving them," Brennan said, crossing her arms as she tilted her head at Booth. "Believe me, I know."

Narrowing his eyes, Booth couldn't help but shoot her another look at her strange words as he tried to keep the exchange between them light as he said, "What? Are you some guru on love now, Bones? Did you commune with the Dahli Lama or some other quack when you were over in Machuko and had some cosmic revelation about love that I missed while I was gone? Are you an expert or something now, and I just never got the memo?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Booth knew he'd said something wrong. He could tell as soon as Brennan's body language changed―her body stiffened, her eyes narrowed, her blue eyes hardened, and her nostrils began to flare. She pursed her lips into a narrow line for a minute before she nodded at Nesbitt and said, "We need a moment. Go ahead to the cave, please. We'll be there shortly."

Nesbitt, clearly intrigued by the exchange that was happening between the pair, looked to Booth after Brennan had asked him to leave them alone…and in so doing, only infuriated the forensic anthropologist all the more. For his part, Booth could feel the waves of hostility now radiating off of his partner and so gave Nesbitt a barely discernible nod. With a look of reluctance, Nesbitt sighed in disappointment, turned around, and continued down the trail.

When he'd disappeared out of earshot, and his exit had left the partners alone, Booth finally nodded at Brennan and asked, "What?"

"The answer to your question is 'yes'," Brennan said as she narrowed her eyes and her jaw moved from side-to-side as she stared at Booth, the strong emotions she felt roiling off of her in wave after powerful wave.

"Huh?" came the confused response.

Taking a step towards him, Brennan's lips thinned into a harsh line as she said, "I said, the answer to your question as to if I had some cosmic revelation―I believe you used the words―while I was in Maluku about love and had become an expert on it…the answer to that question is, 'yes'…as is the answer to your second question, i.e., did you miss said transformation on my part."

Booth could only stare at Brennan in dumbfounded shock, not comprehending her words.

"What?"

Brennan shook her head as she said, "Furthermore, just for the record, Booth…I find it very interesting that in all the weeks you and I have been back in D.C., you haven't once mentioned the word 'love' in conjunction with Hannah until I just put the two together in a united context about ten minutes ago."

Booth could only stare at Brennan as if she were speaking some foreign language. Shaking his head as he tried to make sense of Brennan's weird behavior and even more weird words, Booth asked, "Bones, what in the hell are you talking about?"

Her eyes flashed once again as she looked at him with her pale blue irises glaring at him with a look at hard as ice. Taking a step towards him, closing the distance between them, she lifted her hand and used her index finger to jab him hard in the chest as she said, "I'm talking about the fact that you came back from Afghanistan with all these notions of Hannah rattling in your brain while I finally figured out that the feelings I have for you are love, Booth. And, now, you go and imply that you love Hannah…only after I've contextualized your attachment to her using those words?" She punctuated each word with a hard stab of her finger as she said, "I'm not certain what the appropriate euphemism is here, but believe me when I say, I think this is a load of overripe and extremely pungent cattle dung!"

She then dropped her hand to her side, shot him one last glance scathing glance, and brushed past him with a clearly offended air to her person.

For his part, Booth stood dumbfounded as he watched Brennan go. At last, when he'd been left by himself on the path with only the chirping of birds to keep him company, comprehension dawned as he muttered, "Wait…what―really? Did what I think happen just happen? Did she…did she just say this was a load of bullshit?"

Shaking his head in confusion, Booth immediately proceeded as fast as his feet could carry him in search of his partner for clarification.

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	37. That Time Brennan Called Booth Stodgy

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 37: That Time Brennan Called Booth Stodgy<span>

* * *

><p>It was only a couple of hours after sunrise, and already it was beginning to get hot.<p>

While the dry heat of the New Mexican desert was something that Booth had experienced before, it still surprised him every time that he came that far west. He knew it was going to be a very long and very hot and very bright day, and so he also knew that it would be a benefit for them if they could cover as much ground as possible while the heat and light were still bearable. Plus, he still expected to be see and crash headfirst into a very thick wall (the reinforced brick kind) at some point given what the combined facts of a lack of sleep and jet lag would do to him. So, Booth knew the clock was ticking in a number of different ways, and that cumulative result was that his normal reservoir of patience with Brennan's illogical behavior was starting with wear fairly thin.

_I mean, okay, _he thought as he guided the black SUV he'd rented at Albuquerque International Sunport, the major airport serving New Mexico, towards the location of Alex Joseph's trailer. _I get that Angela's her friend. But, why, for once can she not see the logic in this and admit that Angela is the prime suspect with plenty of motive, means, and opportunity to whack a guy…a guy, by the way, who's totally okay with shacking up with her for only three weeks during the year. Seriously, what type of guy could do that? If he really cared about her, how could he just turn his feelings off and on for her like a goddamn water spigot? Not __that__ doesn't make any sense. None at all. _

After they'd ridden in silence for almost twenty minutes, Brennan sitting next to him and doing nothing but radiating hostility, Booth had had enough. Putting the SUV in park, he turned off the car and pulled the keys out of the ignition. He could see Alex Joseph's trailer in the distance, about forty or fifty yards away from them, but he'd parked so that the SUV was angled and Brennan's side of the car was more sheltered than his own…just in case, since, Booth thought, it was better to be safe than sorry. As he got out of the car, he lightly slammed the door shut, but not hard enough so that it could be construed as an expression of anger or aggression. He used just enough force that his actions would get Brennan's attention. Booth had to keep from smirking when, less than fifty or second seconds after he'd shut the door and had remained on the driver's side, ostensibly stretching his back, Brennan traipsed around towards the other side of the SUV. Her hands on her hips, she glared at Booth for a minute, but said nothing as she pursed her lips into a thin line and hardened her jaw so that he could see how much his lack of faith in Angela had annoyed him.

Sighing, Booth finally said, "Okay, no offense to Angela, but she doesn't even really know this guy. She's only with him what, only three weeks out of the year?"

As soon as he'd spoken, Brennan's posture and body language changed. It was as if she was a fine thoroughbred who'd just heard the start gun and processed the signal that she was allowed to jump out of her box to start the race. She jutted her hip towards him as she shook her head and said, in a voice that made her disdain for him in that moment quite clear, "No offense to you, but you are a stodgy traditionalist when it comes to relationships, buddy."

If there was one thing that Booth knew never to be surprised by when it came to Dr. Temperance Brennan, it was his knowledge of the fact that she had the remarkably consistent ability to be a constant surprise to him. Even forearmed and forewarned with such knowledge, each time she did it, Booth couldn't help but be off kilter for just a second or two while he adjusted to whatever surprise she'd just lobbed at his head. On such occasions, as this moment appeared to be, when she threw not one, but _two _unexpected curveballs his way, Booth wasn't sure which one to focus on first―the fact that she'd insulted him by saying he was as exciting as watching wet paint dry or the fact that she'd called him 'buddy' in such a flippant way when he doubted she'd ever called anyone her buddy before. Eventually, his brain defaulted into chronological mode and reacted to her initial taunt first.

"Stodgy?" Booth grunted, as he took a step towards her and placed his own hands on his hips. _Did she really just say that? Really? I mean, I've been called a lot of things in my day, but 'stodgy'? Seriously? _"Stodgy?" he repeated, as tried to think of why she would think of him in that way. "Okay, okay, here's the deal—" he muttered, verbally fumbling as he stalled for time.

Like a shark smelling blood in the water, Brennan seemed to sense that she'd rattled Booth. Taking another step towards him, even as her nostrils flared in clear annoyance, she pressed her advantage as she repeated, "Yes, stodgy."

"I can't believe this," Booth muttered, leveling his gaze at her as he looked at her over the edge of his sunglasses. "Are you really trying to say that you think I'm…what…boring?"

"Boring, yes," she nodded sharply. "Or, if you prefer, dull, stuffy, dreary, monotonous, pedantic, tedious, turgid, unexciting, uninteresting, and generally unimaginative...buddy.".

As Brennan rattled off her string of alternative adjectives that she was using to insult Booth, something in him snapped. Maybe it was the fact that he'd dropped everything he was doing _for _her and flown more than fifteen hundred miles just because she'd ask for his help. Or, maybe, it was because of the way she kept taunting him by calling him 'buddy' in a way that clearly was meant to make funny of his own common use of the term. Or, most likely, he was just annoyed that she could stand there in front of him, saying things she had first hand knowledge of that proved the contrary, and still she insisted on calling him stodgy (and all it's synonyms) just because she could. The last bit of the very thin strand of patience he had with her snapped as he reached out, grabbed Brennan's arm, and yanked her towards him.

When they were so close that he could feel her warm breath of his cheek, and―a small part of his rational brain observed from where it had been relegated to the sidelines once Booth had let his emotions get the better of him―she hadn't tried to break his arm or inflict any other type of physical harm on him in order to get free, Booth felt a surge of something shoot through him. The flash made his heart race and his head swim, and for a minute he could only look at her unusually clear blue eyes as he choked down several breaths of oxygen. How long they took like that―Booth holding Brennan's body taut against his, their faces mere inches away from one another, chests heaving, and the tension in the air between them crackling with electricity and anticipation―neither one was quite certain. However, when Brennan unintentionally let her tongue dart out of her mouth as it wet her bottom lip, the moment was broken and each found they could act again.

Booth, the first to recover his wits, told her in a very gravelly voice that surprised even him at its level of raspyness, "Now look, I didn't come all this way on about twelve hours notice―through two connections, one of which was a flight from Denver to Albuquerque on what was no better than a tin can with two propellers because you screwed up and no flights actually connect from Denver to Santa Fe like you said, and I had to drive the 63 miles from Albuquerque to Santa Fe before I could even attempt to figure out where in the middle of hell you actually were―just to get insulted. So, knock it off, Bones…especially when we both know that you know _plenty _of things about me that definitely make it blatantly clear that you're lying if you're saying I'm either boring or dull or stodgy or whatever the hell else you're insinuating. Got it?"

Brennan considered his words, and then said, with just a touch of rebellion in her voice, "Or, what, Booth? If I call you stodgy again, what else are you going to do to me? Kiss me in the rain and then run away again?"

If Brennan had been looking for the one exact thing that would be certain to elicit an instant response from Booth, as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she'd found it.

Yanking her even more tightly against him, so that her body was flush with hers, he pressed his lightly stubbled cheek against her ear as he graveled, "No, Bones. I'm gonna do what I should done that night. I'm gonna kiss you, keep _you_ from running away, and then I'm gonna show you just how awesome I can be when I actually do go 'all-federal' on someone's ass…got it, buddy?"

Brennan could only blink at him several times in clear surprise before she answered him with a slow curve of her lips that eventually widened into a sultry smile that lasted for about three seconds flat before Booth crushed her lips with his own.

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>


	38. That Time Booth Borrowed Brennan's Phone

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 38: That Time Booth Borrowed Brennan's Phone<span>

* * *

><p>She wasn't willing to admit it. She wasn't going to tell him that for some reason she couldn't quite understand, ever since they'd arrived in L.A., Booth's normal level of sexual attractiveness had increased by a significant magnitude. She didn't know why or how it had actually occurred.<p>

He was dressing the same way he always did, albeit perhaps in a slightly more casual way. His wardrobe during their case had thus far varied between the t-shirts, jeans, and leather jacket ensemble he tended to favor more often than the casual formal Oxford long-sleeve dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, unbuttoned at the neck, and worn loose over his jeans that he sometimes donned. Brennan did have to admit that she'd observed the fact that he must've gotten a haircut before they'd left D.C. since his hair elicited an unusual appeal to have one run their finger's through it. But, it wasn't like she hadn't been around him hundreds of times before in the times when he'd gotten haircuts before. She knew he usually gotten them like clockwork on the first Wednesday of each month―if not sooner, since Booth was more than slightly vein when it came to his hair. So, a new haircut didn't necessarily explain why she suddenly itched to touch his hair. Then, there was the matter of his scent. As far as she could tell, nothing out of the ordinary had changed there either. She'd made several covert attempts to inhale his scent when they were in close proximity. As far as she could determine, he hadn't changed his routine by varying any products that he used that had a distinctive scent. He still smelled just as he always did―a combination of the lemon-scented shampoo he used, the menthol-scented shaving cream he preferred, and the very faint sandalwood aftershave he favored. In a word, Booth smelled as he always did to Brennan―good. But, again, she couldn't find anything that had changed out about him. Thus, she still couldn't figure out why everyone seemed to be reacting to his charming smile, easy going nature, and impressive physicality here in D.C. in a way in which she'd failed to observe before they'd left.

And, then, logically, she began to wonder if there was no evidence that _Booth_ had been the one to change, then maybe it was _her_. Had something happened where she had suddenly become more responsive to his physical cues, the scent of his pheromones, and the many other aspects of his person in between? Because, if she had, that would explain, she knew, one of the things she felt most disconcerted about. Every time another female smiled at or flirted with Booth she felt an overwhelming desire to scratch the offending woman's eyes out, inflict great bodily harm on said woman, and then find out if the perfect body disposal plan she'd concocted in her head one summer just for fun was actually a valid way to make someone disappear forever.

As they stood in the lab that Brennan had appropriated for her work at the L.A. corner's office, with both Hodgins and Zack on video screens staring back at them, while she and Booth ostensibly worked the case, something suddenly clicked in her head.

It was her. She was the one that had changed. Somehow, someway...something had happened to her.

And, she was jealous.

She, Dr. Temperance Brennan, was jealous…of any other female that her partner, Special Agent Seeley Booth, was showering with attention instead of her.

She was jealous―completely and utterly irrationally and insanely jealous, to the point that she was feeling extremely aggressive and hostile. And, as soon as she realized this very salient point, Brennan knew that her ire was only going to increase the more that Booth flirted with other women instead of her.

_How in the hell did this happen?_ a small, rational voice echoed in Brennan's head as she listened to Zack and Hodgins talk about what they'd found after examining the remains that had been shipped back to the Jeffersonian from LAX. _When…how…and…damn it. _

After Zack offered a summary of the bone trauma that victim had suffered, Brennan absentmindedly voiced a random comment about the trauma perhaps being linked to the victim having sustained the injuries in an auto accident. She'd turned away from the monitors primarily so that neither Zack nor Hodgins would be able to see that she wasn't her normal calm and collected self. That was the reason why Brennan was able to see Booth make a grab for her cell phone as soon as he'd fished out the business card the Hollywood madam had given him at their interview earlier in the day. Booth shot her an amused look when he tossed the phone in the air, caught it, and then proceeded to use it to make a call even as Brennan scowled at him and Zack continued chattering in the background, demanding her attention. However, for once, forensic anthropology lost out in Dr. Temperance Brennan's brain to more base demands. Booth moved out of her grasp when she tried to reach for the phone, turning so that his back was facing the monitors on which Zack and Hodgins stood watching them. Brennan felt a flush of annoyance transition into a quick stab of anger as she stood two or three feet away from Booth while he made his call.

"Hey, Miss. Bardu. Hi. Special Agent Booth," he grinned smoothly into the phone.

Brennan's eyes widened as she realized who he was talking to…and why...since there was only one reason he could be calling Bardu...and he was actually using her cell phone to do it.

"I've reconsidered your offer," Booth said in a jovial voice.

_Oh, hell, no, _a sharper voice―one that was quite glorious in its irrationality―snapped. _He's not doing what I think he's doing._

"I was wondering if I could have one of your ladies visit me today?" Booth asked in a lightly playful voice.

_He is, _the voice snapped when the complete wave of disbelief that had just crashed over Brennan had apparently rendered her own vocal cords inoperative. _Son of a bitch. He is. He's using my phone…to get a prostitute…in front of me. _

"You're ordering a prostitute from my cell phone?" Brennan finally managed to utter in complete incredulity.

"I was wondering if Rachel ever took part in any of those two-on-one specials?" Booth asked, the picture of innocence as Brennan's scowl went from wide-eyed shocked to narrow-eyed suspicion.

"Hey, the old two on one special," Hodgins chuckled in the background as he and Zack observed the exchange. "Classic."

"What's a classic?" Brennan didn't even hear Zack ask, confusion clear in his voice.

"That's great," Booth nodded, even though Bardu couldn't see his response. "Just send me whoever she worked with the most."

"You're ordering a hooker to my hotel?" Brennan snapped at him as Booth only flashed her a playful smile before he took another step away from her.

"Did I hear you say hooker?" Zack continued to punctuate the background with questions that merely expressed how confused he really was in some ways for an individual who was as brilliant as he was in others.

"How come I never get to go on these out of town trips?" Hodgins chimed in with a sly grin of his own, solidifying his and Zack's status as a type of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern presence in this scene.

Brennan was at a loss for what to do when suddenly, Booth uttered a single sentence that clarified what she needed to do as soon as he'd said it.

Looking up at her as he ended the call, Booth said simply, "'Cause you have much looser daily allowances then I do."

Brennan stared at him for about two-tenths of a second, her eyes hard, her jaw hardened, and her nostrils flaring, before she moved. Forgetting that the remote to disconnect the monitors was in her pocket, Brennan stomped to the other side of the monitors from which Zack and Hodgins were their audience. Grabbing at the various AV and power cords, Brennan began to yank every connection she could free. When she was satisfied that the monitors and web uplink had been disconnected, she spun on her heels and turned back to face Booth.

"I know the squints are annoying sometimes, Bones," he said with amusement clear in his eyes, "But, you could've just ended the call by hitting the disconnect button, ya know?"

For a man who prided himself on reading people and situations using his gut in a very productive way, even Booth had to admit that Brennan's next action surprised him. He was surprised because of how quickly his perspective on his partner changed. One minute he was standing in front of her, eyes twinkling at her apparent aggravation over the squints, holding her phone out to her since he'd finished with it. The next minute he was on the floor, staring up at the ceiling from the flat of his back, as he struggled to regain the ability to breathe from the wind that had been knocked out of him when Brennan had swept his legs out from under him. That view of the ceiling was quickly replaced by one of the most beautiful and arousing sights that Booth could honestly say had ever greeted his eyes―Brennan was on top of him, using her legs to straddle him, while she looked down at him with her normally pristine blue eyes clouded to one of the loveliest hazy blues he'd ever seen. Her skin was flushed a delicate pink and her chest was heaving in just the right way that, from his particular vantage point, he had a very excellent view of her full breasts, despite the fact that the two layered tank tops and rather drab brown blazer she wore did their best to obscure them.

Brennan, for her part, didn't give Booth much of a chance to say anything as she leaned down, grabbed a fist full of his grey t-shirt in each hand and used her leverage to pull him up to her. She smashed her mouth against his, her lips on his mouth before he even could suck in a deep breath. By the time her tongue was insistently demanding entrance to his mouth, Booth was already starting to feel lightheaded―both from a lack of oxygen and what was happened. Brennan pressed her chest against hers as she sucked on the tip of his tongue, trying to draw it from his mouth into her own. She made a small growl of protest when, after several stunned seconds, she still didn't feel any response from Booth. The growl seemed to flip a rather primal switch in Booth's brain. Suddenly, oxygen was no longer quite as important as it once had been. Unfettered, Booth's tongue began its own counter offensive against Brennan's, and the pair lay on the floor for several moments trying to see who was going to win this particular battle.

Finally, about to pass out from both oxygen deprivation and a painful arousal, Booth took his last bit of energy, thrust his hips forward, and knocked Brennan off balance enough so that he could roll them over. Their heads separated during the process, and by the time Booth righted himself, he looked down at Brennan with a rather stupid, toothy grin on his face.

"Bones?" he managed to choke in between gasps for air.

"Yes…Booth?" she panted as she sucked down her own much needed breaths of air.

"Not that I'm complaining…but what…the…hell…what…that?" he rasped.

Using her forearms to prop her up as she looked up at him, she said, "You're not spending the night getting laid by a prostitute in L.A. at my hotel on my expense account."

"Oh?" Booth chuckled, comprehension suddenly dawning.

"Yes," Brennan nodded furiously. "If you want to get laid tonight, at my hotel, then it will be in my room, by me, no prostitutes or other women involved. Understand?"

Booth looked at her with an appreciative eye, licking his lips in complete and utter anticipation, as he said, "What's your room number again?"

"2705," Brennan responded instantly. "I'll leave a key for you at the desk."

Booth grinned as he leaned down and let his lips hover just above her ear as he whispered, "As great as that sounds, do we really need to wait until tonight?"

Brennan's throaty chuckle was all the answer he needed, but just so there was no miscommunication between them, she reached down and pulled him back on top of her so that he knew her answer to his question was no, they didn't need to wait a second longer.

And, so, they didn't.

* * *

><p>-TBC-<p> 


	39. That Time Booth Called Brennan Bossy

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 39: That Time Booth Called Brennan Bossy<span>

* * *

><p>Booth was nervous. He couldn't argue that part. That was why he was trying to distract himself by any means necessary, bouncing from room to room in the house as he hovered over the techs in between phone calls with the federal prosecutor's office. He'd been on edge the entire time they'd been working this case for several reasons―not only because he was still in the throws of what had been a nasty breakup with Tessa, but because of the reappearance of Brennan's slimy ex. And, he didn't like it. Not one bit. Even as he walked into the family room to update Brennan about the news on the Costellos' refrigerator, his brain was focused elsewhere. He'd spent the last two days trying to get the image of Brennan and her ex out of his had. However, the harder he tried, the more persistent thoughts of his partner and Michael Stires echoed in his brain.<p>

_I mean, what a friggin' scumbag_, Booth thought as he walked back into the living room of Mary and Scott Costello's home, threading his way through FBI techs who were scurrying across the crime scene like worker ants. _I don't get it, and more importantly, I don't like it. I can't prove it, but my gut says there's something off with that guy. He may not be as bad as the Costellos, but I don't like him. And, furthermore, I don't get what Bones sees in that guy. I mean, yeah, he's smart―and I guess that some people would say that he's not a bad looking guy, but even still. He gives me the heebie jeebies. _

As he was walking around the room and thinking, Brennan was surveying the evidence that the FBI techs had started to collect for the prosecution to use in their case of Maggie Schlling's murder. Furrowing her brow, Brennan frowned and then said, "They're sadomasochistic fetishists."

Looking up at her, Booth stopped pacing. He walked over to the table where one of the boxes sat and hastily grabbed one of the boxes up into his arms.

"Yeah," Booth said vaguely as he brought the box closer to Brennan and set it down in front of her. "Turned the basement into a fun room."

Leaning forward, Brennan arched her eyebrows as she looked into the box as she continued, "Seeking sexual gratification through the manipulation of power." Reaching into the box, she pulled out a black leather collar that was set with metal spikes. She gave it an odd look before she vaguely gestured in Booth's direction as she told him, "Probably the oldest of fetishes, master-slave." She held Booth's intense gave for a moment, noted how he swallowed so hard that his Adam's apple bobbed enough so that she noticed it, and then shrugged slightly as she dropped the collar back into the box as she added, "It's all about dominance."

_Oh, my God_, Booth thought. _I get it now. She's into Stires because he was in a position of authority over her, and she gets off on…what? Being dominated? God…that's just so_―_man, I never would've guess she'd be into that kink, but damn. That does explain Stires. But, oh, God. I can't let her know that I know that or thing are gonna get even more awkward between us than they already are. So…deflect. I gotta deflect. Hmmm…._

Taking a breath, Booth hoped he wasn't blushing as he lamely said, "Well, this only comes up when the bloom comes off the rose, if you know what I mean."

Giving Booth a sour look as her face crinkled into a twisted look of displeasure, Brennan shook her head and said, "I don't know what you mean."

_Of course you don't_, Booth thought. _Damn it._

Taking a breath, he tried to explain―in as vague a way as possible so that he could make her understand his point (which he was already sorry he'd made) and not personalize so that she knew what he'd realized about why she was hooking up with Stires―as he said, "You know, when the regular stuff….when it gets old, you need to spice it up…it's over." He paused for only a fraction of a second before he added, almost as an afterthought, "When sex is good, you don't need any help."

_That _particular statement Brennan did understand. Her eyes dilated as her face broke into an unexpected easy grin as she said, "Oh, that's for sure."

_Goddamn it, she's thinking about Stires_, a voice bellowed in Booth's head. _I think I'm gonna hurl._

"I'm sorry?" he managed to choke out as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his suit's trousers so that she wouldn't see him clench his fists in aggravation.

Shaking her head slightly, as she still had that creepy grin on her face that Booth knew meant she was thinking of Stires, Brennan said, "I was agreeing."

"Yeah?" he blinked at her. When Brennan didn't say anything, but merely kept grinning at him, he said sharply, "Well, don't. Okay?" Sighing, he added, even though he didn't realize he'd said part of his inner monologue out loud, "It kinda freaks me out."

Brennan immediately responded, "I was just saying that I myself feel no inclination toward either pain or dominance when it comes to sex."

_Wait, _Booth blinked. _Is she really telling me this? She doesn't like to be dominated and so she gets her jollies by letting Stires dominate her? Oh, God, I'm seriously gonna puke. But, can she really mean that? I mean, this is obsessive-compulsive control freak grade A gold standard Bones that we're talking about here._

His nausea momentarily forgotten, Booth quickly asked her, "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," she volleyed back. "I'm sure."

He stared at her for a few seconds before he couldn't help himself anymore and said, "Because you can be very bossy."

She made a face and then reached for one of the ridding crops in the box. She quickly swatted him hard on the shoulder, causing Booth to spin around quickly.

"Hey!" he grunted. "Cut it out."

"Don't call me bossy," Brennan immediately retorted.

"I'm just stating a fact there, Bones," Booth said as he crossed his arms. "You of all people can't argue with the facts."

"It's not a fact that I'm bossy in bed," Brennan said as she gestured at him with the riding crop, stabbing it in the air as she spoke. "You have no baseline for making any such statement."

"Call it a factual extrapolation," Booth said as he nodded at her.

"That's ridiculous," Brennan said. "You don't know anything about me and what I'm like in bed when I'm having sex―"

Taking a step towards her, Booth's nostrils flared as the filter that normally kept his inner monologue in check suddenly gotten flipped to the off-button as the image of Stires spanking Brennan during some type of kinky foreplay made him see red. "If you recall," Booth graveled in a low tone so that no one else but Brennan would hear him. "That wasn't for lack of trying on my part. That was all on you, Bones."

She blinked at him for a minute, staring at him wide-eyed as he finally did what they'd silently agreed never to bring up again―a night in the rain colored by tequila shots, confessions, and some of the best kisses that either one had ever had in their entire lives. After another minute, she raised the crop at him again when she decided that he was just teasing her. Moving to swat him, she said, "Stop teasing me. That's not funny."

Booth, for his part, refused to break eye contact with her as he said, "I'm not joking, Bones." He then reached out and grabbed her hand that held the crop as he said, "And, while we're being completely honest here, I think I've got more than enough factual evidence to say that you're plenty bossy in bed."

"Meaning?" she coughed as her own breathing started to get shallow as she realized that somehow, in some way, things had suddenly shifted between the pair.

"Meaning," Booth said, his dark eyes now glittering like two pieces of obsidian as he stared back at her. "I think you like telling other people what to do to you in bed. So, I think that the reason why you can handle that crop there well enough―and don't you dare smack me with that again since I told you I'm not into that schtick―is because that you were being honest when you said that you don't like spanking Mikey-boy in bed, so you must like getting spanked yourself since he can't do what needs to be done because he's a two-faced girly jagoff. But, just for the record, if you ever get tired of trying to get satisfied by a douche-bag like that and want to have a go with someone who doesn't need a bunch of props to get you to where you need to go, you've got my number, huh?"

He dropped her arm in that minute, and then quickly spun around to put some distance between them as quickly as possible. Walking outside, he struggled to find time to let his super ego attempt to catch up with what his id had just done when it rested control of his mouth from his ego. A couple of minutes later, he was standing in the Costellos' drive way, watching two officers take the handcuffed couple into custody as they situated them in the back of a marked car when he felt his phone ring in his pocket.

Grabbing it from his pocket, he didn't even bother to look at the caller ID as he answered gruffly, "Booth."

A very familiar voice suddenly caressed his ear. Instinctively, his eyes darted to the window of the Costello's living room, and he saw Brennan standing in front of it, holding her own phone to her ear as she looked back out at him.

"Your place or mine?" he heard her soft voice in the phone, no louder than a sensual whisper.

He swallowed heavily, his throat suddenly having gone very dry as he tried to take in the surreal nature of the last twenty minutes. A dangerous silence hung between them for a moment that was heavily pregnant with an expectant pause. One part of him was uncertain what to say. Fortunately for Booth, at that moment, his id once again seized control of his mouth―and it knew _exactly_ what it wanted to say―as he replied, "Mine. It's closer."

"When?"

"Twenty minutes?"

"Done."

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>


	40. That Time Brennan Let Something Slip

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 40: That Time Brennan Let Something Slip<span>

* * *

><p>As Booth walked with Brennan at his side as the walked around the midget wrestling arena venue that Gidget Jones. He was doing his best to continue devoting his full attention to the interview, but he couldn't help feeling distracted. His poor performance at the shooting range the day before had left him with a bad taste in his mouth, which he couldn't seem to shake no matter how hard he tried.<p>

_I mean, what type of FBI agent am I? I can't even hit the broadside of a barn, let alone drop my target_, a familiar voice complained in Booth's head. _Forget about the part where I was a sniper. I'm just lucky nobody saw me screw the pooch as badly as I did at the range. God, how embarrassing this is. It's so friggin' embarrassing._

"Come on, we had a thing," Gidget was saying about her relationship with Bryce. "Got old, I moved on. Thought at first Bryce did too, but it ate at him. Guys are like that, you know." She stopped and shot Brennan a conspiratorial look. "On the outside it looks like they don't care, but on the inside they're chewing themselves up like cancer." Booth had to stop himself from chewing the bottom of his inner lip as he suddenly began to wonder if he was giving off vibes or something that the female dwarf was reading.

_It can't be that bad_, Booth thought. _At least…not yet…right?_

"I gotta be a suspect, right?" Gidget asked when Booth shot Brennan a look, Brennan returned his gaze, and he panicked when he wondered if he'd some how said something out loud that he thought he'd only thought as a part of his internal dialogue.

When Gidget continued to wait for a response, and Booth didn't seem to be quick in offering one, Brennan said, as she shot a strange glance at her partner, "We don't like to come right out and say that."

Shrugging her small shoulders, Gidget said, "Well, I know I am 'cause Bryce was suing me."

_Focus, Booth, damn it_, he chastised himself again. _Or, you might as well just take a billboard add out right now and tell your partner that you've become a sorry putz who can't use his gun in more ways than one. Damn it―_

"Oh, really?" Booth managed to ask. He was quite proud of himself when he had enough forethought to add, "What was he suing you for?"

"Bigger cut of the gate," Gidget responded simply. "I didn't take it personal, maybe he did." She paused and then gave the partners another look, her eyes coming to rest on Brennan as she flashed her that knowing smile again. "You know men―"

_Wait_―_what? _Booth thought as his heart began to pound in his chest and his mouth went dry.

"Something goes wrong in the heart department―" Gidget continued.

_Son-of-a-bitch_, Booth muttered silently, suddenly grateful that he'd shoved his hands inside the pockets of his dark grey suit as he clenched them into fists. _How does she know? _

"―it always shows itself in another way," Gidget finished as she nodded back at Booth.

_I'm going to kill her_, Booth thought as he flushed at the smaller woman's words. _I'm going to grab her by those tiny little gold lapels of hers and see if she should reconsider . I don't care if she's a woman or that I have three feet and about a hundred pounds on her. And, I don't know how she figured it out, but I'm getting really tired of the backhanded barbs. Especially in front of Bones. So, enough. I'm gonna do it. It's not that I want to do it, but I'm going to, God help me, and_―

Booth's eyes darted back to Brennan's as he gave her a nervous look. However, she barely looked at him before Gidget spoke and refocused the forensic anthropologist's attention on their suspect.

"You know Bryce had a criminal past, right?" Gidget asked them both.

This time, it was Booth who had to fill the awkward silence when Brennan didn't say anything, but merely gave them a thoughtful look.

"Yeah," he nodded. "He went to prison for assault or a robbery."

Gidget blinked at Booth for a minute and then laughed. "What can I say? Got a thing for the bad boys." She gave Booth an appraising look before she swiveled her head back to meet Brennan's gaze and asked, "Don't you?"

Booth tried to keep himself from wincing at the answer as he awaited his partner's response.

"No," Brennan said simply. "I prefer good boys."

_Of course, she likes bad boys. Stereotypical rebellion. So, she can't possibly get off on the fact that a good guy like me…wait_, Booth stopped mid-mental rant. _Wait, wait, wait. What did she just say? She prefers good boys? Like me? Really? _

Tilting his head at Brennan, Booth couldn't help it as he asked his partner in a hushed whisper, "Really?"

Brennan nodded simply at Booth as she said, "Yes."

Booth was dumbstruck as Brennan then turned and resumed talking to Gidget Jones. He passed the rest of the interview in a daze, and it wasn't until they were outside the arena and seated back in the Sequoia that Booth had finally collected his wits enough to look at his partner. Brennan, for her part, shot him a strange look when he sat in the driver's seat with the car door lock, his seat belt buckled, both hands firmly clenching the steering wheel, even though he hadn't turned the key from where it sat in the ignition.

Arching an eyebrow, she asked, a touch of concern in her voice, "Booth?"

"Yeah, Bones?" the squeaky reply came.

"You okay?" she asked, blinking at him as she studied his tense frame.

"Uhhhhh," Booth responded, not really giving her an answer before he shook his head, drew a breath and dared to look over at his partner. "Not really."

_Ask her, damn it_, a voice echoed in his head. _You want to know. You need to know. So quit being a damn fool and just ask her. She said she likes good boys, you're a good boy, ergo―you could be in here, Booth. So pull the trigger, make the shot count for once in your sorry life, and just go and get her!_

Brennan immediately sat up straighter and looked at her partner with growing worry in her steely blue gaze. "What is it?" she asked. "Is there something wrong?"

"No," Booth said quickly. "At least…well, I've just got a question for ya, Bones."

Brennan studied Booth again, and then nodded. "Okay. What's your question?"

"Earlier," he said, his voice hesistant as he spoke. "When you told Gidget you liked good boys…errr, you know that, well, I'm a good boy. So, does, well…does that mean that youmightlikeme, not in an attaboyyou'remypartnerway, but youmightlikemebecauseyou'reagoodgirlandI'magoodboyandsincewe' kinda way?"

Booth's words had slurred in a furious way at the end as he flushed a brighter red, from the tip of his nose to the tips of his ears. But, knowing he needed to know, he turned and looked to see his partner's reaction to his question…and, more importantly, the veiled implications behind it.

It took Brennan a moment to make sense of what Booth had said, but after a pause, a small smile broke her normally serious face. Her body relaxed, and her blue eyes twinkled in merriment as she arched an eyebrow at Booth and said, "Booth, did you just ask me if I wanted to do very bad things with you?"

He flushed again, still not moving a muscle, except to nod his head curtly.

Swallowing a chuckle, Brennan shook her head slightly and said, "Then, I'm afraid the answer is no. I don't want to do very bad things with you."

Booth's heart fell into his stomach. He felt a bout of nausea take him, and his head begin to pound even as Brennan continued speaking.

"But, as a good girl, in a potential situation with a good boy like yourself, I can think of several very bad things I'd like to do _to _you," she said as she arched an eyebrow at him. "That is…if you want me to?"

The roaring in Booth's ears almost kept him from comprehending his partner's last statement and the question that had accompanied it. However, a part of his brain wisely kept paying attention as the thought echoed, _Wait…did she just say what I thought she said?_

As if she'd heard him, Brennan reached out and lightly placed her hand on Booth's thigh in anything but a partner like way. She gave him a small smile that was also unlike any she'd ever given him before.

_Oh, wow. Yeah, she did_, the voice echoed, sending a surge of confidence building adrenaline coursing through his brains. He narrowed her eyes at her in an unspoken question, Brennan nodded once solemnly squeezing his leg reassuringly, and then he relaxed as he let out a deep breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding. Giving her a toothy grin, he had only one thought as he reached to turn the key in the ignition.

_Awesome._

* * *

><p><span>-TBC-<span>


	41. That Time That Brennan Kept Looking

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 41: That Time Brennan Kept Looking<span>

* * *

><p>It had been a very, <em>very <em>long night.

Even for one who normally had reserves of reserves of energy in place, Dr. Temperance Brennan couldn't lie and not admit she was tired. By the time that Booth had bought her enough time to check one last thing in the Ookie Room, to see if the bones that Mr. White of the General Services had brought into the lab were potentially JFK's remains or not, she was exhausted. However, adrenaline at finding the answer to the truth of the question kept pushing her forward. But, the reason she wanted to find the answer wasn't for the sake of the answer itself―although she _was _curious to know if she was right or not, and of course, such knowledge for knowledge's sake _was _important.

But, no, the reason why she'd returned to the Ookie Room for one last non-invasive experiment was because she wanted to find an answer for _him_. Because it was so important to _him_. She kept working because she wanted to find the answer for _her partner_. She wanted to find the answer for _Booth_.

So, she'd retired to the Ookie Room, and kept working, not also ashamed to admit that the final attempt to get an answer for Booth also meant that she could hide from Andrew's attentions.

_Not that I'm hiding_, Brennan thought. _Because I don't hide. Dr. Temperance Brennan does hide or back down from anything or anyone. I mean, he's very nice and all, but…I-I just…I don't want to deal with him right now._

Knowing she was conflicted about the mixed signals that she was giving to Booth's boss, the only thing that Brennan did know after such a sleep-deprived night after a terrifically long and hard week was that she was tired and short on patience. But, still, she wasn't going to leave the lab until she had a conclusive answer for her partner.

Brennan blinked back a small yawn as she then added a minute amount of cornstarch to the plastic tubs of the chocolate pudding that sat in front of her as she conducted her own experiment. _Because Hodgins and my interns aren't the only ones who are capable of doing experiments to prove a point. I'm fun, too. I know how to find the joy in science beyond typical qualitative or standard quantitative analyses. I just don't think I'd like for that bit of information to become widely circulated, lest it ruin my image. _

Outside, Brennan heard a shuffling, and she winced when she thought it might be Andrew looking for her. As she looked up from where she was working in front of the metal table which held the pudding, a smile cracked her face when a familiar―and welcome―head popped into the room.

"Hi, Booth," she greeted her partner.

He walked towards her with a nod, and then gave her a suspicious glint as he looked at the plastic tubs in front of her. "Is that pudding?" he asked.

For a minute, Brennan thought about telling him that no matter how hungry he was―and despite how much he loved chocolate pudding―that no, he couldn't have any because she didn't have any extra and was in the middle of a very important experiment. But, when she looked into his eyes and saw that it was not the familiar Booth-hunting-for-food-look shining out of them, she bit back her preemptive admonition.

Nodding her head, she gestured with her white gloved hands as she answered, "Yes. I adjusted the specific gravity with a thickening agent to assure the test's efficacy."

Booth's brow furrowed, as he took a few seconds to translate Brennan's squint speak into plain English in his mind, and then he arched an eyebrow at her. "But, pudding?" he asked, clearly not convinced.

Brennan was about to reevaluate her initial assessment that Booth was hunting for food, since he seemed quite perplexed as to how one of his favorite desserts could actually play a vital role in a significant and valid scientific experiment, that was being conducted by Brennan of all people. However, even as she opened her mouth, her pale blue eyes darted to the tubs of pudding by pure chance. Her eyes widened in shock as a small gasp escaped her lips.

"Whoa," Booth said, gesturing towards her as he stepped closer to the table. Even if he didn't know what had just happened, he knew it was pretty important if it made Brennan light up like a Roman Candle on the Fourth of July. "Something happened," he said, definitely more a statement than a question since he knew he could read his partner's body language like the back of his own hand.

"Yes," she confirmed, as she looked and saw the bone in the tub of pudding to her right had gone to the bottom of the container. "One of these bones sank, and the other one floated."

"In the pudding?" Booth blinked at her, still not quite certain what he was still clearly missing.

Taking sympathy on him, Brennan smiled as she gestured with her hands at each vat as she spoke. "Yes. The heavy bone is healthy," she said, pointing to the plastic tub that was situated to her left even as Booth wagged his dark brown brows in clear confusion. "The one that's still floating is riddled with osteomyelitis," she explained as she motioned to the other contained of pudding that was sitting to her left. "President John F. Kennedy never had osteomyelitis."

A sudden look on intense relief crossed Booth's face as he stepped towards her and didn't even stop to wait for her to come to him. "Come here," he said quietly.

As he pulled her into one of the tightest embraces they'd ever shared, Brennan felt a flush of pleasurable warmth spread throughout her body as she realized all her efforts had just been made worth it by the look of relief that had shown on her partner's face. The fact that she was getting to spend some of the longest amounts of time she'd ever had in his arms was only a bonus to her. She let herself melt against him for a moment as he pressed his body to hers, rest his chin on her shoulder as he wrapped his arms around her back.

"Wow!" she said with a bit of a nervous laugh.

She knew, in that moment, that she wasn't nervous or laughing because of Booth's reaction, but because of how she was feeling rather lightheaded in his arms at that moment. Savoring the sensation, she didn't move to embrace him. It wasn't because, a small sliver of her remaining rational mind thought, because she didn't want to get the pudding that stained her gloves on his black leather jacket, as it might've seemed to an outside observer. Rather, because she didn't want to leave the warm and enjoyable comfort of his arms. However, even as she felt him smile against her check, feeling the slight stubble of his jaw as he pressed against her skin, she knew it would only be a matter of time before the embrace was over, and once more she was alone.

After a few seconds, when she felt Booth start to move away from her, she lamely added, "You really didn't want this to be JFK."

"You know," he said as they pulled apart, even as his hand lingered on her arm for just a bit longer than it really should've. "You kept looking because of me." His dark brown eyes were alight with gratitude as he tried to let her know how much her efforts meant to him. "Thanks, Bones," he told her quietly.

They stared at each other for a long minute, another look in a string of intense looks that had only been getting more and more impassioned since that night when Angela had interrupted them at the opening of the Anok exhibit. This time, however, as they stared at one another and said more without words than either had ever verbalized, there was no one to interrupt them. The air crackled with electricity as each one waited to see what the other would do.

This time, it was Brennan who acted first. Moving towards him, she closed the distance, leaving only a fraction of an inch between their two bodies. Her invitation was clear, and this time Booth didn't hesitate to take it. He leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a gentle kiss, brushing over her pale pink mouth in what could be brushed off as a chaste kiss if either one or both of them felt the need to backtrack. When he drew back, he leveled his questioning stare at her to see what she wanted to do in response to what he'd just done.

After a moment, when nothing but a quizzical smile tugged at her lips, even as her bright blue eyes danced in mischief, he breathed her name in askance of what he should do next. "Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?" she responded, her voice light and airy in its cadence so that it almost seemed to be music to his ears.

"Thanks," he tried again.

"You're welcome, Booth," she breathed, her voice somehow having become no more than a whisper when she spoke the second time. However, just so that there would be no doubt between them, she added, "You know I'd do anything for you, right?"

He continued to stare into her eyes, never breaking his eye contact, as he asked, "Really?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Whatever you need from me―all you have to do is tell me. All you have to do is ask."

Taking another step towards her, he tilted his head as he asked softly, "And, if what I needed was for you to agree, after we get out of here, that you should come back with me to my place…what would you say?"

Another smile broke out on her tired face as she said, "Then, I'd say, we better stop for some coffee on the way there because we're going to need some caffeine since I imagine we're going to be occupied in pursuits that will keep us awake for awhile."

Booth, grinning a toothy grin at her response, leaned in for a second kiss. When they parted once again, he said, "Don't worry. I've got killer DnD at home, so we're good."

Brennan had only one response to his statement. Arching an eyebrow at him, she asked with a playful grin, "Then, when can we leave?"

* * *

><p>-<span>TBC<span>-


	42. That Time Booth Asked if She Wanted More

What I Wish I Could've Said

By: Lesera128

Rated: T

Disclaimer: ::stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

* * *

><p><span>Ch 42: That Time Booth Asked if She Wanted More<span>

* * *

><p>Dr. Temperance Brennan didn't like to admit it, but she rather enjoyed it when her partner pulled out all the stops and used his considerable skills to manipulate her into doing what he wanted.<p>

Of course, Booth would never admit that when he used tried to his charming smile, wide-brown puppy dog-like eyes, and affable looks of appeasement on her that it was any type of manipulation. No, he'd simply say that she was being difficult, and he was showing her the errors of her ways. Sometimes she let him get away with it. Sometimes she didn't. That was why she said he _tried_ to get what he wanted, but he didn't always succeed. It just depended, really, if she felt like being cajoled or not.

On the morning when Booth had called, to let her know that they had a case, but that he wanted her to meet him at his apartment instead of him picking her up at her loft, she knew something was off. Booth rarely varied his preferred pattern of remaining in control and leaving nothing to chance which is why he almost always picked her up in his SUV, no matter if she was at home or the lab. For some reason, as she made her way to his apartment, a strange sense of light play infected her mood.

She'd slept fairly well the night before, and she'd managed to turn in her graduate evaluations of several of her dissertation students three days before the proscribed deadline. Her outfit for the morning included one of her favorite dark red camisoles and a short black cropped jacket with which she paired with a silver and marble necklace that she'd bought in Connemara, Ireland at an international anthropological conference a couple of years earlier. After she'd dressed, she realized she was ahead of schedule, and that she had enough time to walk a couple of blocks to her usual Starbucks for a Venti latte. As she carried back the coffee to her apartment, she smiled as she savored the smell of what Booth described as overpriced hoity toity coffee that real men (such as himself) only drank in cases of dire necessity (read: either she was driving/buying/or a Dunkin' Donuts wasn't close by)_—_which is why she didn't bother to get him one since she knew he'd have his own stash of take home Dunkin' Donuts coffee beans at home. For once, the short ride from her loft in Georgetown to Booth's apartment, that was closer to Chinatown, didn't take forever. Traffic_—_both flow-wise from the perspective of potential fender benders clogging up vital commuter arteries and the pattern of stoplights_—_had been kind to her. She'd also heard a relatively upbeat consecutive string of 80s hits on the radio that had her grooving to the upbeat tempos of Rick Springfield's _Jesse's Girl_, Nena's _99Red Balloons_, Genesis's _Land of Confusion,_ and Madonna's _True Blue_. All in all, it seemed to be an auspicious beginning to her day, and she felt like playing a bit. Since her favorite plaything was a certain FBI agent, the timing of her arrival at his apartment coincided beautifully.

She'd begun with a mischievous double rap on his door as she called through the door for him to open up. Grinning, she recalled the film noir gumshoes who always tried to infiltrate the bad guys lairs in such a way. When a response was not immediately forthcoming, Brennan frowned. Her frown deepened when she heard a muffled shuffling through the thin wood of Booth's front door. She could tell he was inside the apartment even as he called out something to her that she couldn't quite make out. Thinking that perhaps he was repaying her quirking way of summoning him to the front door by taking his time in answering it, Brennan couldn't help herself as she muttered loudly about what was taking him so long.

After another moment, Brennan crossed her arms and was just about to start tapping her foot impatiently in a way that she knew drove Booth insane when the front door opened…and she saw her partner. From the waist up, he looked quite normal_—_commendable even. The military precision in the way he treated his clothes hadn't varied over the years, and Brennan admired the crisp pleats that he'd ironed into his white Oxford dress shirt. His dark tie was rather plain by Booth's normal fashion standards. However, once Brennan glanced down, she couldn't help but notice that Booth was _not _dressed in his standard suit trousers. In fact, he was wearing nothing but his boxers.

Her partner, Booth, had answered the door…in his boxers.

It wasn't like she hadn't seen him dressed in less before. Of course, she'd seen him in his swim trunks. And, those certainly, were no different from his boxers. She'd also seen him at the gym, and on occasion, at the park in shorts when they went jogging together. A couple of times, usually when they were out of town and/or doing undercover work, she'd certainly gotten a glimpse of Booth in his unmentionables. However, for some reason, on this _particular _morning, the sight of him in such…conservative undergarments unnerved her a bit. The white boxers were so simple…so understated…so _unsexy_.

Brennan was just about to make a comment, unable to help herself, when she noticed the pained look that had crossed Booth's face. A moment later, after an offer of coffee, a confession that his back was hurt (after he'd guessed)—because he'd done a typically male thing and fallen asleep watching a game between the Phillies and Braves that had gone into extra innings—and his plea that she fix his back, Brennan was slightly befuddled…and torn. Booth wanted her to crack his back, to end his discomfort. Okay, on any given day that wasn't such a big deal. But, on this particular day, he wanted her to crack his back…while he was in his boxers.

Somewhat uncharacteristically flustered, Brennan couldn't help but hesitate.

Booth sensed it immediately, but since she stood between him and some much needed relief in the lower lumbar region, he decided he was going to do whatever he had to do to get her to use her magic fingers to make him feel better.

Turning around, he waved one arm at her as he said, "Right, I get it—all disclaimers apply." He nodded his head, waiting expectantly for her to comply, "Here we go, hit the back—chop-chop—we got a case."

Brennan knew she was in trouble. Booth was standing no more than a few inches away from her, in his boxers, giving her an open invitation to touch him.

_It's not only an open invitation, _she thought miserably. _He's desperate. He wants me to touch him to make him feel better…while he's wearing his boxers. Damn it. _ Lacking self-control, even as she chewed on her bottom lip in worry, she couldn't help but let her eyes drop to admire the taut muscles of his ass. _Not good, Brennan_, another voice in her head chided her. _He's your partner. You shouldn't be looking at him like that, especially when he's in pain and suffering, and all you can think about is how great it would feel if you could run your hands all over the gluteal muscle grouping to see how firm and taut it really is. Come on. Get a grip!_

"No," Brennan muttered, not quite certain if she was saying that one-word response to Booth or to the irksome voice of her inner monologue.

However, Booth took her word as an answer to _his _question. Turning around, he began to pout as he said, "What do you mean '_no'_?" He stared at her in wide-eyed disbelief. "Last time I had this, you were begging to help me," he added with a slightly exasperated frown.

As Brennan recalled the instance in question, she began to flush as she remembered how they'd fallen asleep on his couch watching _the Lion in Winter_. She awakened curled around Booth's slumbering form and had become slightly alarmed at the intimacy that they'd shared as they'd slept. As Booth had stumbled awake, Brennan had felt a surge of adrenaline flood her veins as she panicked about what had just happened. However, when she'd realized that he'd hurt his back because he'd fallen asleep on the couch because of her, she wanted to help him. Thus, then…just as now, she'd been torn between wanting to help Booth and also a desire to retreat from his immediate presence as quickly as possible until such time as she'd collected herself. On that morning, she'd agreed to crack his back since it seemed to be the easiest way for her to extricate herself from the situation. This time, however, she was fairly certain that if she touched Booth anywhere in the near vicinity of his deliciously grabable ass, no good could come of it—at least no good that wasn't of a prurient kind that wasn't appropriate for a man who was just her partner and friend.

"I probably shouldn't have touched you the last time," she tried to explain to him, hoping that logic might help her out of her problem—if she couldn't reason with her libido, perhaps she could at least reason with his lower lumbar region. "You need a medical doctor."

Not to be challenged, Booth shook his head. "I'm not asking you to perform surgery; just do what you did last time and fix it with your magic knuckles..." A frown creased Brennan's face as she looked at him. Realizing that he needed to put the full press on her, Booth quickly replaced the petulant/pouting look that had been on his face with a complete one-hundred percent charming and suave smile of epic classic Boothyiness. "Look," he told her. "There's no one I trust more to get my back and crack it than _you_." He nodded at her for emphasis, his smile widening at he looked at her.

For a long minute, brown eyes met blue. As he continued to look at her, never breaking eye contact, Brennan felt her resolve weakening.

_Damn it_, she thought. _He's doing it to me…again. And, moreover, I'm letting him do it to me. Damn it. I'm screwed…so screwed._

At last, a small smile replaced her worried frown. Nodding at him, she capitulated, "Wow—"

He chuckled a bit with a tilt of his chin at her as he asked, "You want more?"

_Yes, please! _a lewdly excited voice echoed in her head. _Now. Right now. More. I definitely want more. A lot more. _

Brennan pushed the voice out of her head as she answered Booth's question that his appeal was sufficient and that she'd help him if she could. A minute later, after they'd assumed the position, Brennan wrapped her long arms around his warm torso. She felt a familiar lightheaded feeling wash over her as she caught his scent—a mixture of the Ivory soap she knew he favored mixed with the crisp citrus scent of the spray starch that he used to iron his shirts. He smelled clean and felt so warm…and she was touching him…while he was in his boxers.

_Damn it_, she muttered to herself even as she asked him if he was okay and she helped crack his back. _Why did I have to remember __that__ part now?_

Again, adrenaline flooded her veins, but this time it wasn't panic that made her feel that way. Because, even as she stood there holding him—knowing that she'd fixed his back when he said he already felt a lot better—she realized that she couldn't let him go. She wanted him…and this time she was going to do something about it.

Booth, for his part, was caught completely off guard when Brennan, after she'd cracked his back and he'd felt immediate relief in his lower back, didn't release him from her grasp. Instead, she pressed her back tighter against his, and he had to use every bit of self control he had to keep from jumping out of his skin when he felt one of her hands creep low and palm the curve of his ass.

"Bones?" he finally managed to croak.

When Brennan answered, her voice was decidedly more throaty and velvetlike in a way that made Booth shiver when she responded. "Yes, Booth?"

"Ummm…hey, Bones?" he coughed. "Do…uhhh…you realize that you're kinda grabbing my ass there?"

He felt her body ripple slightly as she replied, "Why, yes, Booth. Yes, I do." She was quiet for a few very long seconds before she added, "Is that a problem for you?"

"Nope!" came the immediate eeked out response. "I just..uhh…why are you doing that again?" Booth asked, and then immediately hit himself in the head for asking such a dumb question.

_Of course she knows she's grabbing your ass, dumbass_, a sharp voice castigated Booth in his mind. _This is __Bones__ here. She always knows what she's doing. Always. So, if she's grabbing your ass…she's doing it for a reason. Whatever it is, don't screw it up! Enjoy it! Because…I repeat. This is Bones. .ass!_

"Aside from the fact that I seem to be experiencing a brief lapse in self-control, it appears that I'm drawn to touching the muscles of your upper gluteal grouping because the thin material of these drolly conservative boxers makes it very easy to see your muscle definition," Brennan said. "Moreover, while I know it might delay our arrival at the crime scene slightly, I believe I could obtain an even better understanding of the muscle definition of your lower gluteal muscle grouping if these boxers were no longer hindering my point of observation."

Booth, his throat suddenly having gone incredibly dry, took a minute to translate the ramble of Brennanese into normal England. _The boxers are showing off the top part of your ass. She likes what she sees. She wants to see if the rest of your ass looks as good and thinks that she could do that if you lost the boxers_, a voice told him. _Translation: you just got the go-ahead from the third-base coach. Run for home, you stupid schmuck!_

Slowly, turning around, Booth arched an eyebrow at her. He gave her a quizzical look, not quite able to believe what was happening, but when she gave him a smile of encouragement, he didn't need to be told twice. A few moments later, amid a rustling of boxers being removed, grunts, moans, sighs, and throaty laughs from Booth's bedroom, his last coherent thought was that he was going to need some excuse as to why they weren't at the crime scene on time and that maybe his back was just the excuse the pair needed…even if it was more than a slight fib.

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><p>-<span>TBC<span>-

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><p><span>AN: So, there we have it. I know I've been a bit slow in updating things lately. However, I've been residing in the land of Dr. Ian Wexler for a bit for work, so it's made finding time to get new updates out a bit of a challenge. Two bits of news I wanted to share with you all. First, if you haven't been reading it, the co-authored story that I've written with dharmamonkey, the Inquisitor is about to reach it's epic conclusion. If you like the idea of really AU, but totally in character BnB romance in Tudor England, click on her link and check out the story. It's one I'm most proud of, filled with lots of great characterizations, plot, historical details, fluffy romance, little-to-no-angst, and BnB goodness. Second, for those of you who follow the storyline started almost a year ago (to the day this weekend) in my very first Bones story "Often Quoted Quotes Quoted One More Time," please look for a special one-shot that will be posting Sunday in commemoration of that anniversary. So, as ever, thanks for reading, and enjoy!


	43. That Time Brennan Wasnt Happy to Be Home

What I Wish I Could've Said

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I own nothing... Obviously. Just playing in someone else's sandbox for a bit.

Summary: Hindsight is always 20/20. Everyone has a single moment that they wish they could have said something better than what they actually did. A completely random series of what-if vignettes.

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><p>Ch 43: That Time Brennan Wasn't Happy to Be Home<p>

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><p>It wasn't a happy time.<p>

In retrospect, Brennan figured that she _should've_ been happy. After all she was finally home. Even more importantly, in the immediate short-term, Sweets and Daisy Wick had left her alone with Booth. It was what she'd wanted for months―even longer if she was honest with herself―and now she finally had it. She was alone with Booth. It was everything she'd thought she'd wanted...except now, it wasn't.

_It is what I've said? _Brennan thought as she chewed her lip and watched Sweets and Daisy shuffle out of what had once been―and would so be again―the Medico-Legal Lab at the Jeffersonian Institute in Washington D.C. _I can't deny that or else I'd be lying. I wanted Booth. I wanted to be alone with him. I wanted to be alone with Booth...for the purpose of telling him. I thought I was finally ready. I just needed to have the opportunity to do it right, and I needed to tell him in person. I needed to tell him that I'm still not sure what love is, but I think…maybe, possibly, that if I've ever been in love, then these emotions that I feel for him…no, __because__ of him are love. I'm in love with Booth, and I wanted to be alone to tell him. I promised myself. As soon as I landed in D.C. I was going to find him and tell him so that we could be together. I'm finally ready now...except it doesn't matter. I can't be ready. Or, to be more precise, I can be ready all I want, but my current state of preparedness is irrelevant. It doesn't matter because there's nothing for me to be ready for…because he did what he said he was going to do. He moved on, and I wanted him to do that. I just thought he'd move on with me…only he didn't. He moved on with someone else and now I'm stuck next to him, and for the first time in my entire life, I don't know what to say to him._

So, as she stood nervously next to her partner, the pair of them dressed in casual clothes and staring at the Jeffersonian exhibit―"Giants of the Ice Age" ―she did what she swore she never would be shallow enough to do: she relief on casual chit chat to get her through what she knew to be one of the most awkward silences they duo had ever shared as it rose between them like a pile of unleavened bread dough.

"Did you see how happy Hodgins was…to be back at work?" Brennan said quietly, struggling to find a neutral topic that would allow the pair to talk about appropriate work-related topics that seemed to be at a premium to find to discuss not that the Logan Bartlett case was firmly behind them.

Pursing her chapped lips together, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She felt very out of place in this space that had once been such a refuge to her. For some reason, she doubted it was because of giant stuffed mastodon she was staring at or the fact that she was in the lab in a casual top and pair of jeans that was covered by a bulky trench coat. The fact that Booth stood next to her in a similarly casually dressed way. Brennan stuffed both of her hands into the pockets of her trench coat and focused on the mastodon as she told herself she couldn't smell a faint, but extremely familiar scent waft to her nose.

_I'm not smelling him_, she calmly told herself. _The faint lemon scent that I believe my olfactory sense is processing is not Booth's aftershave. I believe it is just the remnants of the floor cleaning products used by the cleaning staff to wash and polish the floors. I'm imagining things. Because I know that Booth would definitely not be wearing the same scent of cologne that I bought for him last Christmas if he'd moved on with someone else…especially if the woman that he's purportedly fallen in love with after less than six months away from me is a trite woman with a trite job and a given name that rhymes with banana. _

A flash of anger at the thought of the triteness of the entire situation caused her to clench her fists into balls within the pockets of her trenchcoat. Unable to help herself, she let her eyes surreptitiously move so that she could glance at her partner using her peripheral vision. She immediately chided herself when she felt a flush of warmth go through her as she took in the smooth skin of his freshly shaved jaw, the immaculately pressed line of the casual black sports coat he wore, and the way the crisp fabric of his dark blue jeans molded to his body. Chewing on the inside of her lip, she realized that the heaviness that had hung around Booth in the months before they had left for their respective destinations the previous spring was no longer there.

_He's happy_, Brennan thought miserably. _He's happy…and it's because he's no longer depressed because of me. So, whatever happened to him with whomever when he was over there…the cumulative effect was positive. That means I need to keep my mouth shut. There's no reason dragging up what he's obviously consigned to the past now._

"I'm _definitely_ doing the right thing," Brennan muttered under her breath, more to reassure herself than because she believed in the truth of that statement.

Unfortunately for her, Brennan had said the comment loud enough so that Booth could hear it. Turning to her, he gave her a lopsided smile as he replied, "Okay. I think there's a little more going on there, Bones―" He paused for a beat as he took a step towards the mastodon that took up the majority of the space that had once served as the lab's main work platform. "Wow!" he said, a touch of childlike excitement coming into his voice as he stepped towards it, his head craning to see the whole of the large prehistoric animal. "Okay," he repeated when he realized how big the animal was. Turning back to Brennan, he had a casual smile on his face as he nodded at her and added, "That thing is really big!"

It was in that moment, as she saw him smile at her, that suddenly Brennan's heart fell once again into the put of her stomach. She felt a sour taste in her mouth as she gulped for air, struggling to form a proper response.

_I've lost him_, Brennan thought miserably. _I waited too long, and now I've lost him…and God damn it!_

The conflicting emotions continued to bubble up in her. Realizing that if she said the wrong thing, she would say too much, Brennan struggled to form an appropriate reply to Booth as he stared at her expectantly.

"It's a lot to work around," she finally muttered lamely.

Taking a step towards her, Booth's grin widened a bit, as he nodded in response, "Uhhh, we've worked around bigger." Brennan shot him a look of annoyance. Quickly, Booth quirked a cooked grin at her as he attempted to pacify what he thought was a vocabulary flub on his part as he added, "Metaphorically speaking."

Finding it difficult to breathe, Brennan could only echo in a faint voice, "Metaphorically."

Taking a step towards her, apparently pleased with himself that he had said the right thing, Booth grinned once more at her as he said, "Welcome home, Bones."

Forcing herself to take a deep, if labored, breath, Brennan used every ounce of strength she had to respond in kind. "Thank you," she said softly. She then nodded at him and added, "Welcome home, Booth."

Once again, Booth grinned at her. His easy grin seemed out of place given the heavy tension Brennan felt between them.

_How can he be smiling at me like that? How can he do act like nothing's changed? That nothing's wrong? _a panicked voice raged in her head. _Because it's not. Everything's changed. Nothing's right. Everything's wrong. _

"Thanks, Bones," he nodded at her pleasantly. "I mean, I know there's a lot of work to do, but I'm glad to be back. I really am."

Her head suddenly snapping up, Brennan let out an anguished cough. "I'm not," she suddenly breathed, her brow furrowed as she labored for breath. "I'm not. I-I…I can't do this."

She paused for a minute, then spun sharply on her heels, and her furrowed brow gave away her anguished state causing Booth to wince as he suddenly realized that something was, in fact, way off with his partner…and it had little to do with jet lag or a loss of her workspace in the lab.

"Bones?" Booth asked, not sure what to say, but suddenly feeling terrible if his partner was in as much pain as her facial expression seemed to indicate she was feeling. "What's wrong?"

Smacking her lips together, Brennan shook her head. "You. Me. Us. Everything…everything's wrong, Booth. Everything's wrong…and I'm not happy to be home if home is a place where you've moved on now that I'm finally ready for you…ready to be with you. Everything's wrong if you say you spent years loving me, and now you've fallen out of love with me after just a few months away from me, and you've replaced me with someone who's given name rhymes with _musa acuminate_. I just…I-I can't deal with this. If this is how things are going to be now…you and me together, but not together, well, I just can't do it, Booth. I can't do what you did for years. I'm not that strong, and I'm not that much of a masochist. I can't…I-I just can't do it."

Brennan watched him for a minute, her words washing over him like a rain shower of bewildered confusion. At last, after several quiet moments had passed, Booth looked up at his partner. His brown eyes were watery for some reason that Brennan couldn't bear to hope to comprehend. His voice had changed into a deeper and more gravelly tone as he finally said, "What are you trying to tell me here, Bones?"

Shaking her head once, Brennan said, "I always wanted you to be happy. I've never wanted anything more or less than that. So, if being with this war correspondent…if being with this Hannah-person that you met and now you claim you have feelings for…if she really makes you happy, then I'm glad for you. It hurts me to say that, but it's true because I don't want you to be sad and hurt anymore." She stopped for a minute, unable to hold his bewildered gaze as she looked down at her feet, suddenly knowing what she needed to do. But, feeling that she owed him some type of explanation before she did it, she added in a voice so soft that she knew it would be hard for Booth to hear her. "I do want you to be happy, Booth. I do...but, if it's true…I-I…I can't stay around to watch it anymore, Booth. I know that's shallow and selfish, but I just can't do it."

And, with one final dejectedly sad shake of her head at him, she quickly turned away and hurriedly walked out the sliding glass doors of the lab, the clicking of her boots on the stone floor echoing in her wake being the only sound that was made as she walked away.

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><p>-TBC-<p> 


End file.
